


All Bets Are Off

by Magnolia822



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bets, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Jealous!Arthur, Jealous!Merlin, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnolia822/pseuds/Magnolia822
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has been in a series of failed relationships since uni, and Arthur has been a slag for just as long. After Merlin's most recent breakup, Arthur bets he can stay in a relationship longer than Merlin can stay single. Neither of them suspects their little bet will backfire so spectacularly—or open up so many possibilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP, and I will be updating every few days or so, hopefully never longer than a week. At this point I have no idea how many chapters or words we're talking here: it could be 10K, could be 40, but each chapter will be around 1-3K. There will be lots of fun, I hope! So join me! 
> 
> Thanks to [Asya_Ana](http://asya-ana.livejournal.com/) for the beta and to [Emmy](http://ememmyem.livejournal.com/) and [Fr333bird](http://fr333bird.livejournal.com/) for the britpick/prereads! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended. 
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT ADD THIS WORK OF FANFICTION TO GOODREADS. THANK YOU.

Funny how it only takes a few pints and the company of friends to put things into perspective, Merlin thought as he sat perched on his stool at the White Lion. Just a few hours before, he’d been miserable, hardly able to work until Gaius took pity on him and sent him home from the coffee shop, and now, well, now he was sort of drunk. 

“You’re better off without him, mate,” Leon said, finishing off his pint and back-handing the foam from his moustache. 

Merlin forced a smile, nodding his head in too-vigorous agreement. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” 

Arthur, who was sitting on the other side of Merlin at the table, nudged him with an elbow. “Of course he’s right. The bloke was a tosser; I never trusted him. What kind of name is Valiant, anyway?”

“A bloody ridiculous one, if you ask me,” Leon chimed in. “And those trousers he used to wear sagging down around his arse like he was a teenager. Not a proper gay man.” Leon shook his head in disgust.

“And you should know,” said Arthur. 

“I wrote the book.” 

“I liked his trousers,” Merlin said. 

“You liked what was under them.” Arthur smirked, his top lip curling up. 

“That too. But he did have horrible taste in music. And he couldn’t cook to save his life.”

“Neither can you,” Arthur observed.

“Yes, but that’s why I need someone to look after me.” 

The music in the pub was louder than usual for a Thursday, and Merlin was glad for it; it was nice to be out with his mates, especially since he hadn’t seen much of Arthur lately, what with his new promotion. He raised his glass to toast the end of his most recent relationship. “To Valiant. Goodbye and good riddance.” 

“You know, mate,” Leon said. “I think I know what your problem is.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, you’ve basically been in a string of relationships since uni. You haven’t gone more than a week without a boyfriend in all the time I’ve known you.” 

Arthur leaned in closer. “That would be eight years, seven months, to be exact.” 

Merlin’s mouth dropped open; he couldn’t help himself. That was certainly not true. There’d been almost a month between Theodore and Richard. “There was nearly—”

“—a fortnight between Theodore and Richard,” Arthur said, his self-satisfied smirk growing. It was times like these when Arthur was at his most infuriating. They’d been mates since they met during fresher’s week, the three of them, but while Leon had always been supportive, offering constructive criticism whenever one of his romances went wrong, Arthur seemed to derive an almost sadistic pleasure from teasing him. Most of the time it just rolled off of his back, but sometimes it got under his skin—like now. 

Merlin scowled. “It was a month. And anyway, you’re one to talk, Arthur.” 

“I’m not dating anyone.” 

“Yeah, but you’re fucking half the women in London. At least I’m trying to establish a steady and meaningful relationship. And I don’t value people based on their looks. I want someone intelligent, funny, someone I can talk to—” 

Arthur snorted. “You’re trying to tell me that you were drawn to Prince Valiant because of his intellect? He was thick as two short planks.”

“He had other . . . qualities,” Merlin said, unsure why he was getting defensive over the man who’d just up and left him without so much as a goodbye fuck. “Good qualities. Solid qualities.” Peculiar, though, right now he couldn’t name one.

Leon looked thoughtful. “God, he _did_ have a nice, firm arse. When you could see it under those ridiculous trousers, that is. And those arms—like tree trunks.” 

“Leon,” Merlin said through gritted teeth. “You’re not helping.” 

“Sorry. I’ll just—” His friend got up for another round.

“So you want one thing and I want another,” Arthur continued addressing Merlin, “but the difference between us is I’m satisfied with my life. I’m not looking for a relationship. You, on the other hand, are miserable. You go from man to unsuitable man and then you’re surprised and disappointed when it doesn’t work out. I think—you know what I think?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “No, but I’m sure you’re dying to enlighten me.”

“I think you purposefully pick men that you have nothing in common with.”

“You think I set myself up for failure.” 

“Exactly.” With a flourish, Arthur finished his drink. 

“If I wanted to be psychoanalysed I’d call my mother.” It wasn’t like Merlin didn’t know he had a habit of getting attached too easily. 

“You two squabble like an old married couple,” Leon said when he returned with the pints. “Worse than my parents.” 

“God forbid anyone ever marry Arthur,” Merlin rejoined, still feeling tender from Arthur’s accusation. What if he were right? “Anyway, I challenge you to get serious about someone for once; then you can talk to me about relationship issues.” But of course Arthur never would; Arthur was so gorgeous he didn’t have to worry about being alone. He could probably have anyone in the fucking pub if he wanted, when he wanted. 

Leon laughed, and Arthur frowned at them both. 

“I have an idea,” Leon told Merlin. “Maybe you should just take it easy for a bit. Not jump into anything. Sort yourself out.” 

“That’s a—”

“Terrible idea!” Arthur interrupted. “What Merlin needs is a one-off. Or several. Think of all the single men in London you could be shagging. Have some _fun_ for a change.” 

As if on cue, the barman collected their empty glasses, giving Merlin a wink and a smile in the process. Merlin smiled back, flattered. The bloke was fit, a new addition to the staff whom he’d only seen once before.

“He’s cruising you,” said Leon.

“He cruises everyone,” Arthur said.

Merlin laughed. “So says the winner of London’s Slag of the Year award.” 

“You wound me, Merlin. I’m trying to defend a title here.” 

Leon’s eyes travelled appreciatively over the barman’s denim-clad arse, and Merlin’s followed. “It doesn’t matter. When someone like _that_ looks at you like _that_ , you don’t say no.” 

“You men, do you ever think of anything but sex?” The female voice interrupted them from behind, and Merlin didn’t need to turn around to know it was Morgana, Arthur’s sister and Leon’s number one hag. 

“Not really,” the three of them replied in unison.

“Well, that makes four of us, then. Cheers. Budge up, lads.” 

They moved to a larger table to accommodate the new addition, and talk gradually drifted from Merlin’s unlucky love life to Arthur’s overactive one. Apparently Morgana had her sights set on hooking Arthur up with a new girl at work, someone she described as petite and blonde and all of the things Arthur usually looked for in a one off. This was apparently not the first time such a topic had been broached. And not only was Elena beautiful and sweet, but what was inside her head was just as interesting, at least according to Morgana. Merlin couldn’t help noticing Arthur looked intrigued. 

“—so yeah, I think you should take her out. On a date, Arthur, not to fuck in the back room of some club.”

“Morgana, you know I don’t want—” Arthur trailed off mid-sentence when he caught Merlin’s gaze. “Actually—on second thought. Yes. I’ll go out with her. On a no-shag date.” Their eyes locked for a moment, and in that span of time Merlin remembered a long-forgotten folly from university days, when he and Arthur had drunkenly snogged back at Arthur’s flat after a party. They’d both been beyond pissed, and what had started out as an affectionate peck goodnight had morphed into something involving tongues and tentative groping. Thankfully things had broken off before they got too heated when the gallon of beer sloshing in Merlin’s stomach had made him feel queasy; he’d just barely made it to the loo before he’d thrown up and then passed out on the floor. 

The next day they’d both agreed it had been a ridiculous mistake, and neither had spoken of it again, both too embarrassed to acknowledge the fact that—well, there had been two erections involved. Merlin had barely even considered it, knowing it was foolish and futile to do so. After all, Arthur was straight and they were friends. And Arthur was annoying. Who could be bothered to fall for to someone who flossed after each meal and refused to ride the tube without unscented antibacterial spray?

“—let her know tomorrow. Is it okay if I give her your number?” Morgana asked, and Merlin realised the conversation had continued on while he’d been lost in his head. 

“Sure, sure,” Arthur said, and then looked over at Merlin again. “On one condition. Merlin?” 

“What does this have to do with me?” 

“Exactly this: remember what we were discussing before?”

He wracked his brain, trying to remember what had happened before Morgana had arrived; oh, it had been about Valiant, and Merlin’s penchant for falling for complete knobs. “What of it?”

“I accept your challenge.”

Merlin wrinkled his forehead, the alcohol making his recollection imperfect. “My challenge?” 

“You challenged me to take someone seriously for once. I vow at least to try.” 

“Okay. Still don’t know what this has to do with me.” 

“If I’m taking a page out of your book, you have to take a page from mine. The barman is still making eyes at you.” 

Merlin looked from Morgana, to Leon, back to Arthur, before casting a glance over his shoulder at Gwaine. It was true; Merlin received another wink and a nod, and then a casual beckoning of distressingly perfect fingers. Merlin gulped, feeling his face heat, and then turned around. Arthur wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, the prat. 

“Go get him, tiger.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for the comments! Here we go, chapter two. Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta and to Emmy for the britpick/preread! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended.

“Oh god, yes,” Merlin groaned, tangling his hands in the messy brown hair of the man kneeling at his feet. They were back at Gwaine’s flat after closing, and Merlin was doing his best not to come before the main event. Valiant hadn’t been keen on bottoming, and it had probably been four months since Merlin had the pleasure of having his cock ridden. 

His initial trepidation at Arthur’s suggestion had given way to horny gratitude. This—this was a good idea. He could have casual sex, no strings attached. People did it all the time. Just because Gwaine had his dick in his mouth didn’t mean they had to pick out wedding china, for god’s sake. 

Speaking of which … 

Gwaine moaned around his erection, using his hand to work whatever he couldn’t swallow down his throat, then pulled back to concentrate on the tip. He had an extremely talented mouth, swirling his tongue around Merlin’s slit and looking up at him through lashes that were too long and pretty for his masculine face. Merlin knocked his head against the wall—they hadn’t even made it to the bedroom, and already his balls were tightening. The incredible sight of Gwaine’s swollen lips wrapped around him certainly wasn’t helping. It had been a while since he’d received anything other than a perfunctory blowjob, and this one was so good Merlin wondered if you could bottle cock worship because Gwaine could probably make a fortune, much more than he did down at the pub—though he did pull pints with perfect head as well—

“Fuck,” Merlin gasped, pushing back on Gwaine’s shoulders and gripping his prick at the base to stop his orgasm. 

Gwaine reluctantly released Merlin’s cock from the warm haven of his mouth and got to his feet, leaning forward with a seductive glint in his eyes. 

“Shall we take this to bed?” 

“Yes,” Merlin nodded, doing his best to follow Gwaine with dignity, though his dick was twitching in his hand. 

He ignored the fact that Gwaine had what Merlin suspected was a lifetime supply of condoms in his bedside table and enough lube for an elephant cock—better to be over than under-prepared, he supposed—and bit his bottom lip as Gwaine opened himself up with slick, quick-working fingers. 

The sex didn’t last nearly as long as Merlin hoped, mainly because he was so close to coming from the outset. As soon as he was wrapped and buried in Gwaine’s arse, he had to count back from a hundred and picture his great aunt Gladys naked just to begin thrusting. It was good, though, and Gwaine moaned under him, jerking himself off while Merlin set a leisurely pace, trying to hold back despite the perfect, tight pressure squeezing him root to tip, and even Gladys wasn’t doing the job because god, Gwaine had a nice arse and the sight of his cock slipping in was just. Too. Much.

Ah well, there was always time for round two.

***

“So how was it?” Arthur leaned over the counter, giving Merlin an evil grin as he sipped his double-shot macchiato. Merlin glanced over his shoulder, on the lookout for Gaius, as the last thing he needed his boss to hear was that he’d shagged himself rotten the night before.

“How was what?” Merlin asked, feigning innocence. 

“You know what I mean. The barman. Mr. Pantene.” Arthur mimed a hair-flip.

“It was . . . good.” It had been bloody excellent, but Merlin and Arthur hadn’t ever made a habit of getting into specifics when it came to sex. 

“Just _good_?” 

“Very good.” 

“On a scale of Simon Cowell to young Colin Firth?” A couple years before they’d spent an evening watching _X-Factor_ and Merlin had remarked that Simon Cowell was the most repellent British male celebrity in the history of television. When Arthur had pressed him about who he found the fittest, he’d come up with Colin Firth a la Mr. Darcy. It had become Arthur’s reference for what Merlin found attractive, and he never got tired of ribbing Merlin about his Jane Austen fetish. Which he _didn’t_ have. Colin was just flawless in the role, that was all, and a perfect gentleman to boot. 

Merlin grinned. “I’d say . . . Benedict Cumberbatch.” 

Arthur’s eyes widened, and he took a step back, crossing his arms. “Well, well, well.” 

“You were right. I think it was just what I needed.” He wiped down the counter, hyper-aware of the fact Gaius was probably doing his best to listen. For a man older than Stonehenge, he had ears like a bat.

Arthur feigned shock. “Wait,” he said, fumbling in his suit for his mobile, “let me get that recorded. I was—what exactly was I? Say again? Let me help you; it began with an ‘r’.” 

“Taking a break, Gauis,” Merlin called, rolling his eyes.

The shop was quiet, as it was late in the evening and the after-work crowd had broken up some time before. Most people were getting ready to go out. He untied his apron and followed Arthur to a small table farther away. 

“What are you doing getting coffee at this hour, anyway?” And, he might have mentioned, so far out of Arthur’s usual circuit. His office was on the other side of town, and his flat wasn’t on the line closest to the Dragon Café, so he’d had to put special effort into this visit. It wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. 

“I’ve got a date.” 

“No! With the blonde?” Merlin could hardly believe Arthur was really going through with it; he’d written it off as drunken posturing, sure that in the light of day Arthur would change his mind. 

“The very same. Elena, her name is. Comes from Devon and seems quite nice. We’re having a drink in . . . ” he checked his mobile, “exactly one hour.” 

“Well, good for you,” Merlin said, playing idly with a discarded straw wrapper. 

“A bet is a bet.” 

“We didn’t make a bet.”

“Yes, we did. But we didn’t define terms. That’s what I’m here for.” 

Merlin’s brow furrowed as he regarded his friend across the table. What was going on inside his pea brain? 

“But you haven’t even gone out with her yet. Maybe you’ll shag her. We should probably save the betting until tomorrow.” 

The affronted look on Arthur’s face was comic. “I can keep it in my trousers when I have the mind to, _Mer_ lin. Maybe I’ve decided it’s time to take things seriously, find someone nice and settle down. I’m not getting any younger, after all.” 

“Hmm.” Merlin patted at his chest pockets dramatically. “Now where’s _my_ recorder?” 

“Stranger things have happened.”

Merlin craned his neck toward the window. “Funny, I don’t even see any pigs flying—”

“Okay, well what about you? When’s Mr. Pantene moving in?”

“You’re such an arse. If you must know, he asked to see me again and I said no.” 

Arthur’s brows rose in surprised arches. “Really.” 

In fact, even though they’d been sexually compatible, it was nice to not feel obligated for once. Merlin had told Gwaine honestly that he’d just broken up and wasn’t looking for anything more than a one-time thing, and the feeling had been quite . . . freeing. Gwaine hadn’t seemed affronted, and he’d even told Merlin that he was always up for another go if Merlin changed his mind. All in all, things really couldn’t have gone better. 

“Well, I’m shocked,” Arthur continued, “but I still insist you’ll find yourself in an oppressive— _committed_ —relationship well before than I decide to end things with Elena.”

“End things? You haven’t even _begun_ them. You haven’t even met her!” Sometimes, Arthur’s audacity was really too much. “And I wouldn’t get too cocky, Arthur. After last night, I might not have a boyfriend ever again.” His voice had risen a few decibels, attracting Gaius’s attention. The old man smiled at them and shook his head. 

Arthur grinned. “Okay. So the stakes. If I win you’ll have to do whatever I say for an entire day, which may include mortifying public humiliation.” 

“Okay. Fine,” Merlin snapped. “If _I_ win, you need to buy me drinks for a month. And clean my flat. And wear a t-shirt that says—clotpole. In public.”

“Clotpole? That isn’t a real word.” 

Merlin shrugged. 

“I think I’ve got the short end of the stick,” Arthur said. 

“Don’t complain; this is your ridiculous challenge.” 

“But we only have each other’s word . . . we’ll have to instate some kind of honesty policy.”

“Oh, you don’t trust me?”

“About this? Not as far as I can throw you. You’re insane during any sort of competition.” 

Arthur gave him one of his famous inscrutable expressions, his blue eyes growing steely, assessing. He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then tapped his bottom lip. It was the same look he gave Merlin when they were playing poker—tells that weren’t really tells, designed to distract him. Finally, he said, “Fine. I accept your terms. It’s on, Emrys.”

“Oh, it is so on.”

***

Arthur left shortly after, and Merlin found himself watching the fine cut of his expensive suit disappear around the corner.

“He seemed in high spirits. What was that all about?” Gaius asked. A few straggling customers were gathering their things. 

“I don’t really know,” Merlin said. “But I think I’m going to regret this.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all of the sweet comments! 
> 
> Hugs to Asya_Ana for the beta and to Emmy for the britpick/preread! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended.

Merlin lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and willing himself out of bed. Finally, however, it was Kilgharrah's plaintive meowing in his ear that roused him. He turned his head and regarded the tabby, whose yellow eyes glared at him accusingly. 

“You’re such a needy queen,” he told his cat, who led the way to the kitchen, winding between his legs while Merlin grabbed a pouch of foul-smelling cat food and dished it out. “There. Enjoy.” 

Merlin ran a hand through his hair and considered the mess of his flat. It was still littered with Valiant’s things, and now that he had a day off he’d have to deal with boxing them up and setting them out on the curb. Or maybe he’s just save himself the trouble and throw the lot out the window. But first—sustenance. 

There was nothing in the fridge, no coffee even, and so Merlin hastily brushed his teeth, slipped on his shoes and made his way downstairs and across the street to the Tesco Express for breakfast. 

As he finished paying up, his mobile buzzed in his pocket. Merlin folded the newspaper under his arm and fumbled with his coffee to answer. 

“Mum.”

“Hello sweetie. I just had to call you. I saw a nice job advert this morning at the University of Leeds… Lecturer in Art and Art History. Just think, you’d be so close to home.” 

“You need a doctorate for a job like that, Mum. And I haven’t got mine yet.” As many times as Merlin had tried to explain to his mother what exactly he did as an assistant curator—or had done, until the medieval manuscript preservation society he’d worked at had sold its library and left him without a job six months before—she never quite got it. 

“Well when will you have your doctorate?”

Merlin sighed. “I haven’t enrolled on a course yet. Maybe someday.” 

“I know you’d be perfect for that job, though. They’d be lucky to have you. It couldn’t hurt to apply, could it, dear?” 

Merlin took a sip of scalding coffee, trying not to swear at the burn. “No, I suppose not.” It was best not to argue with his mum when she got like this. If she only knew how many applications he’d sent out only to be rejected, she’d get upset. Buggeration, it was disheartening even to Merlin, who’d once thought his three years at his old job and his Cambridge degree meant something. In this job market, though, you really had to have connections, and as a first generation academic, Merlin didn’t. 

His mother seemed pleased. She hummed on the end of the line. “That’s all I ask, dear. Now how’s my favourite son-in-law, Valiant?”

Oh god; this was going to be a long conversation. Merlin regretted not dousing his coffee with whiskey.

***

“So you actually expect us to believe you went out with this girl, liked her, and didn’t fuck her?” Leon asked incredulously, exchanging a look with Merlin over Arthur’s supine body. Merlin shrugged. He really couldn’t believe it either; he’d come to the gym expecting to be handed an easy victory. But apparently Arthur was playing to win.

“You both have so little faith in me,” Arthur grunted, his face red and sweaty as he heaved another rep and blew out a breath. “It’s really disheartening. Maybe I should get some new friends.”

“I can’t believe it,” Leon said, helping Arthur replace the barbell after his final chest press. Arthur swung his legs around and sat up, reaching down to grab his water bottle and take a couple swigs. Leon replaced him on the bench, asking Merlin to spot. 

“Turning over a new leaf,” Arthur said, winking at Merlin. 

“Trying to win a bet is more like.” 

Leon grimaced, his arms straining as he exclaimed, “What? What are you talking about? Oh god, what have you two done?”

“It’s just a little wager,” Arthur said dismissively.

“Merlin?” Leon looked at him, and Merlin shrugged, filling him in on the details of the bet as he finished his set.

“Traitor,” Arthur whispered under his breath. 

“So you’re going out with this poor girl to win—what was it exactly? The right to dress Merlin in assless chaps and parade him around the streets of London?” 

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds like heaven.” Arthur flashed Leon a fake smile. “It’s just a bit of fun. And I happen to enjoy Elena’s company, just so you know. We had a perfectly lovely time. She could be the one.” He grabbed his white towel and wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping up to spot for Merlin. 

Lying down on the bench, Merlin looked up at Arthur, wondering whether he was telling the truth about Elena or if this was just another bluff, part of the bet. Arthur’s expression didn’t give anything away, though, and he seemed eager to change the subject.

“One-twenty?” Arthur asked him, smiling down as he adjusted the weights.

“One-thirty-five.” 

Arthur nodded his approval, and Merlin felt strangely pleased, though he didn’t know why he should.

Leon didn’t appear to want to let the matter rest. “So you’re seeing her again?” 

“This weekend.” 

“What are you going to do when she finds out this is all just part of some wager?” 

“She won’t find out.” 

Merlin felt sweat break out on his upper lip as he went into his fourth repetition, the muscles in his arms and back straining; perhaps 135 had been pushing it after all. Still, he wasn’t about to look the weakling. He tightened his abdominals and breathed out, steeling himself.

“I don’t know how you do it, mate,” Leon said to Arthur. 

“How I do what?”

“Live without a soul or moral compass.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, then looked down at Merlin, brow furrowing. 

“You all right?”

“Fine,” Merlin gritted through his teeth, pushing the bar up a sixth time. He could make it to ten. 

“In any case,” Arthur said, turning his attention back to Leon. “Does it matter? Some people start dating because their parents approve, or because they’re interested in the person’s money, or because they’re afraid to be alone—”

“Argued like a cynical lawyer.” 

Arthur ignored Leon’s comment and carried on. “Who gives a fig how it got started? I’ve met more—”

Merlin heaved his final rep, muscles aching as Arthur took the bar from him. He resisted the urge to let his arms flop bonelessly and tried to focus on Leon and Arthur’s argument as he sat up, when his attention was arrested by a presence at the other side of the room. 

It was Percival; he often stopped by the coffee shop to get a large skinny vanilla latte, offering a small smile and tipping heavily. Once or twice Merlin had tried to strike up a conversation, but the bloke was painfully shy, which was odd since he was one of the most attractive—and hugest—men Merlin had ever seen in real life. He looked like he could probably bench Merlin himself, twice over. When he noticed Merlin had caught him staring, his cheeks flushed, but he didn’t look away. Merlin smiled. Oh, he was definitely being given the eye.

“Well done,” Arthur said, and Merlin realised the comment was meant for him. 

“Hmm?” He tried to act nonchalant, cool. “Oh, thanks.” Arthur was referring to the set. 

“Oh. Ohhhh, yes,” Leon knew exactly what Merlin was looking at. He stared obviously, arching his eyebrow. “Isn’t he just lovely?” By this time, Percival’s shyness had gotten the better of him, and he’d returned to the leg press. 

Merlin groaned. “Leon, don’t scare him away! That’s the most interaction we’ve ever had.” 

“Well, then I suggest you get over there, mate, and give him your number.” 

Meanwhile, Arthur was readying for another set on the bench press. “I wonder what I’ll decide to make you do when I win.” He hummed. “That assless chaps idea was brilliant—thanks for that, Leon. Can you get arrested if you’re fulfilling a bet? I’ll have to look it up in the office. Merlin, what’s your trouser size?”

“Arthur!” 

“Well, you never know, this might be love. Elena’s clever, funny, has a great set of tits.”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

“We stayed out for hours, just talking. It was the most fun I’ve had in years.” 

Merlin scoffed. God, he was laying it on thick. 

“I bet Percival has a gigantic cock,” Leon said. 

Arthur snorted, his bare muscles bulging as he began his reps. He really was looking fit these days, but of course Merlin would never actually say that aloud. The man’s head barely fit in the gym as it was. “I bet it’s not that big. Blokes like that never live up to expectations.” 

“How would _you_ know?” Leon asked. 

“I never took you for a size queen,” Merlin told Leon, ignoring Arthur’s comment. 

“I am a man of many secrets.” 

By this time, Percival was finishing up his workout and heading to the showers. He gave Merlin one last glance over his shoulder. 

Leon almost squealed. “Oh. My. God. You’re right. He is so into you. Jesus, Merlin, that’s like a once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

“I think . . .” Merlin said, nodding to them both. “I’ll catch you two later.” He’d never have thought in a million years that he’d have the balls to go for a man like Percy, but strangely enough the bet had given him some sort of . . . confidence. 

“Don’t forget to play safe!” Leon called. Merlin noticed, for once, that Arthur didn’t have any remark.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta and to Emmy and Fr333bird for the britpick/prereads! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended.

“I’ve never done anything like this,” Percival said, coming towards Merlin with a shy smile. He had a deep voice and a dimple on his left cheek that made his massive frame less intimidating. Merlin wasn’t a short man, but Percy had at least three inches and a few stone on him. 

“It’s not my usual, either,” Merlin said, and it wasn’t a lie. The one-off with Gwaine had been his first casual fuck in years. 

They hadn’t wasted any time on preliminaries, not after a snog in the sauna that quickly escalated into the need for more privacy. Since Merlin’s flat was just around the corner, that’s where they’d ended up after a brief shower—during which Merlin had snuck a peek and had Leon’s suspicions confirmed. 

Percy took another step forward until their bodies were flush together, and Merlin was suddenly very aware of the bed just to their left. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while.” 

“Me too.” The way Percy was looking at him sent a shiver up Merlin’s spine. He smiled and Percy blushed, the colour travelling from his face down to his open collar. Deciding to follow the trail with his tongue, Merlin licked the clavicle and then sucked on the soft, warm skin at the base of Percy’s neck. He could feel Percy’s cock start to harden against his lower belly.

Percy’s hands were in his hair when he spoke. “I feel like I intimidate people. I don’t know how to talk . . . to blokes.” 

“Oh no?” Merlin asked, feeling bold as he went to his knees. It was heady to have a man this fit under his power. Looking up through his lashes, Merlin wet his lips in what he hoped was a seductive manner. It seemed to work; Percy’s eyes darkened. 

“But you and your mates always seem so nice. At the gym.”

Merlin pressed his lips against the thickening bulge and nodded. He didn’t want to think about his friends right now.

“The blond one . . . is he your boyfriend or something?”

“What!? Arthur? No. Why in the world would you think that?” He left off nuzzling and sat back on his haunches, confused. It was a strangely unnerving idea.

“Oh, I don’t know . . . he just didn’t seem very happy when we left, is all.”

“He’s just angry I’m going to win,” Merlin muttered under his breath. Anything else was preposterous. He had made a point not to look at Leon and Arthur, who’d still been working out when he’d left the gym with Percy, sure they’d say something to embarrass him.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing. Don’t worry about Arthur.”

A few paces away, Kilgharrah was staring at him. Judging. Merlin grabbed a balled up sock and threw it, and the cat sauntered away. Putting Arthur and Leon and the bet from his mind, Merlin turned to the task at hand.

Percy’s cock was a thing of beauty, long and thick, the foreskin already retracted over the bulbous head. Merlin had difficulty keeping the smile from his face as he mouthed the base of the shaft and nosed under Percy’s heavy balls, then used his tongue to trace along the sensitive underside of the tip. He licked the slit, tasting the early tang of come.

God, he wanted to sit on it.

Percy gasped. _Bollocks._ He might have said that out loud. 

All shyness gone, Percy proved himself to be a sweet and eager lover. They sucked each other off until Merlin’s jaw began to ache, and then he found himself foisted aloft to straddle Percy’s impressive six-pack. Merlin guided Percy’s lube-slicked fingers into him and began to ride them, loving the burn and the gradual slide into pleasure. Once in a while, Percy’s cock poked eagerly from behind, making its formative presence known. 

When he finally sank onto the wide girth of Percy’s erection, the man looked up at him with heavy-lidded desire. 

“No one . . . god, I’ve never.” A blush of mortification spread across his cheeks. 

“You’ve never what?”

“Fuck. I’ve never fucked anyone before.” 

“Jesus,” Merlin said, taking in another inch. He was too far-gone to understand the full implication of the words. 

“Most guys are daunted . . . um, by my size. And I was afraid to ask. But I want to.” The words were strained, hands grasping Merlin’s hips. There was so much power there, so much control. 

“All right,” Merlin panted. They both let out a groan as he fully seated himself. God, he’d never felt so stretched, the hard cock brushing against the hungry spot inside him every time he shifted his hips. Percy’s fists were clenched at his sides, his eyes screwed shut in what looked like pain. 

For a minute, he just paused, feeling every pulse of the erection, and then he started to move, slowly rising and falling until he’d built a steady rhythm. Percy stared, feverishly watching the place they were joined. The room was filled with sound of flesh meeting flesh, Merlin’s cock slapping between their bellies on each downward thrust. 

Merlin felt his orgasm rise as if it were being forced out from the inside. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Percival gasped. From the expression on his face, he was close—maybe too close. He threw his head back and started bucking helplessly. It was that moment of pure abandon that pushed Merlin over the edge. He came, untouched, his cock leaping as Percival’s hips slammed up, forcing that huge cock deep as it could go.

A few minutes later, once they’d recovered their breath, Merlin slid off of Percival, wincing as they separated; his legs felt like jelly, and his arse. Well, his arse was going to need a little recovery time. 

Percy was gazing at him with soft eyes. God, seeing him like this up close without the distraction of his well-developed body, he _did_ look young. For the first time Merlin wondered if maybe this had been such a good idea.

“How old are you, Percy?” Merlin asked, trying to keep the question neutral. Some of his previous observations were beginning to add up. 

“Eighteen.” He grinned.

Well, at least he was legal.

“And I was your . . . first?”

“Yeah.”

Merlin turned over on his side, letting his hand trail up Percy’s ribs. “I didn’t know . . . I shouldn’t have—” He felt a horrible wash of guilt. 

Percy leaned over and kissed him. “Please don’t feel bad. It was amazing. I wanted it to be with someone experienced . . . someone I wouldn’t hurt. But nice. Like you.”

Merlin snorted, though he supposed he was experienced, he wasn’t that experienced. And suddenly he didn’t feel so very nice. He remembered with some pain his own first time, how hard he’d fallen for the man who’d taken his virginity: his A-Level History teacher. When it was over, the knob had completely panicked and called it off. Even ten years later, the recollection of it hurt. If Percival wanted to see him again, he would, and damn the stupid bet. 

“But I hope you don’t . . . get the wrong idea,” Percy said, his voice apologetic. “There’s a boy I like at uni—and well, I’m hoping—” 

Merlin couldn’t be affronted; not when Percy was giving him that shy smile. 

“That’s good. Say no more.” 

“But if you want, you can fuck me. I’d . . . I’d like that.” 

Merlin smiled down at him. “As tempting as that is, maybe you better save that for him.” He stretched and reached around to find his pants, somewhere lost in the sheets.

***

The following weekend Leon and Morgana invited him out to the pub, and Merlin knew that despite the pretence of wanting to hang out, Leon was after details. Gwaine was working when he arrived, and he gave Merlin a wink as he approached the bar for a round.

“All right, blue eyes?” 

“All right. You?” 

“Brilliant. Better now that you’re here.” Gwaine flipped his hair and Merlin almost laughed, remembering Arthur’s impression.

“I bet you say that to all the boys,” Merlin joked. It was nice to talk to Gwaine; he was so easy-going. 

“Just the pretty ones.” 

Merlin blushed as he tried to pay, but Gwaine waved his money away. “On the house, mate.” 

“I don’t know how Arthur does it,” Merlin said when joined his friends at the table with three pints. “This single, player routine is hard work.” And much more emotionally complicated that he’d previously thought; though he supposed Arthur probably got around that bit by never talking to his conquests. 

Morgana leaned forward, the expression on her face making it clear Leon had already told her about Percy. “So, darling,” she said, smirking. “Pictures or it didn’t happen. We want details.” 

“You nosy bint, Morgana!” Leon exclaimed. He turned to Merlin. “Spare nothing. I’m living vicariously through you. How big _was_ it?” 

“Yes, Merlin, do tell!” The familiar voice from behind startled Merlin, nearly causing him to spill his pint in his lap. 

Merlin swung around. “What are you doing here?” he asked Arthur. He was dressed casually in a blue shirt and worn jeans, rather than the formal suits Merlin had grown accustomed to seeing him in during the last few months. It was a rarity for him not to be working on the weekend. He looked good—refreshed. For a moment Merlin wondered if it really did have something to do with Elena.

Arthur gave his most practiced, innocent smile. “Oh, you weren’t expecting me?”

“Not really.” 

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t miss this conversation for the world.” 

He excused himself to get a beer and then returned, taking the seat nearest Merlin. 

With Arthur there the situation was a hundred times more awkward. Merlin didn’t want to talk about Percy behind his back—the kid was sweet, and his youth was a bit embarrassing. It seemed a rather caddish thing to brag about taking someone’s virginity. And then he recalled what Percy had said about Arthur seeming angry—and by implication, jealous. Scanning his friend’s face, he didn’t see any trace of those emotions now. Just pure, unabashed glee. He was enjoying Merlin’s discomfiture. 

So Merlin tried to find a middle ground, placating them with a few ambiguous generalisations. While Morgana and Leon seemed ready to leave it at that, Arthur was irritatingly persistent. 

“Hmm. So I suppose we’re to conclude from that rather, well, pitiful display of enthusiasm that I was right.” 

“How so?” Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“His member must not have been that impressive.” 

It was clear he was being goaded. He took a calm sip of his pint and set it back on the table. 

“Think whatever you like,” he said. “It doesn’t bother me. And how is the lovely Elena? Or have you broken it off, yet?”

“As a matter of fact, things are fantastic. I saw her again last night and we had an amazing time.” 

“Oh, could you be a bit more specific, then? Not sure I believe you.”

Arthur tutted, ignoring him. “So sad. I sense the sex was . . .” He held up one hand to Merlin’s forehead. “Mediocre at best.” 

From across the table, Leon sighed. “Arthur, why don’t you just let it be?”

“Or,” Arthur continued, sadly. “Maybe there was no sex at all.” 

That did it. Merlin fixed Arthur with a glare. “Fine, you arse. You want to know all of the dirty details? Percival has the biggest cock I’ve ever had the pleasure to suck. And the sweetest; he’s only 18, don’t you know. I straddled him and rode him hard until I came just from having his huge cock inside me. It was fucking brilliant. And when it was all over I sucked him off again just to taste his come.” Okay, that last part had been a bit of an embellishment, but it had the desired effect. Arthur’s eyes seemed about ready to pop out of his head. A quick glance at his other friends showed Leon and Morgana wearing twinned, gape-mouthed expressions.

Merlin downed the rest of his pint. “I’m going now. Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”

They were still staring after him as he left the pub, and Merlin couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Arthur’s face. He’d never actually seen Arthur—shocked—before. It was more than a little satisfying.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta and to Emmy for the britpick/preread! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended.

“We’re very sorry, Mr. Emrys, but we decided to go with another candidate.” 

Merlin held his mobile away from his ear, cursing silently into the air. He’d been sure his interview at the British Library had gone well the week before; his C.V. had impressed the curators, and he’d gotten on with both of them. They’d given him a tour of the rare book rooms and shown him some rare Welsh manuscripts, the Lindesfarne Gospels, a Shakespeare folio. He’d imagined himself going to work every morning and loving his job. 

“Thank you.”

The voice at the end of the line made another apology, and Merlin hung up and slumped back onto the settee with a sigh. Well, that was that. He supposed he should have known. 

Kilgharrah leapt onto his legs and began needling him with sharp claws, trying to make a bed on his lap. 

“Ouch, you little shite,” Merlin complained, but let him, stroking the cat absently. He really had to take stock of his life. Working at the coffee shop was paying expenses for now, but just barely. He’d already had to dip into his savings and now that Valiant was no longer helping with rent—

The buzzer sounded, and Merlin startled. Kilgharrah yowled in complaint and ran off, leaving Merlin to go see about the visitor. 

It was Arthur. He stood at the door with a bag from Marks and Sparks, dressed in his work clothes. When he saw Merlin, he gave a sheepish smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I got biscuits. And that veg you like.” 

“Rocket?”

“Yeah, that horrid bitter stuff. You must be the only one in London who eats it, so.” He thrust the bag out and Merlin took it, glancing inside. Only Arthur would come bearing the odd combination of chocolate digestives and lettuce. 

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled a cheeky grin, and Merlin begrudgingly stepped to the side, letting Arthur sweep into the flat, bringing with him the smell of rain and some sort of woodsy aftershave. 

They hadn’t spoken for the last week; Merlin had been avoiding Arthur’s calls. He was still irritated about the way Arthur had acted at the pub, though his own behaviour hadn’t been much more mature. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Arthur said, following him into the kitchen where he deposited the greens in the fridge and snagged the box of biscuits, then switched the kettle on.

“No.”

“Liar. You are a lying liar who lies. I’ve rung you three times.” 

“Oh, er, I meant to call back. I’ve just been busy, you know, with work and all.”

Silence descended as Merlin made the tea; he realised he was being a bit of an arse, that Arthur had obviously come to make up. But he wasn’t going to be the one to broach the topic. 

“You’re still mad,” Arthur finally surmised, taking the proffered drink. Merlin took his own mug and made his way back to the living room, resuming his position on the couch.

Arthur took off his suit jacket and claimed a spot on the other end of the sofa, rolling up his sleeves. A tentative sip of tea later, he said, “I was only teasing you.”

But Merlin didn’t want to fall so easily into their normal routine. “That’s it, Arthur; you’re always only teasing. That way you can say whatever you want, no matter how dickish, and then you have an excuse.” 

“But you know me; you know I didn’t mean it.” 

“Why don’t you harass Leon the way you harass me?” Merlin asked him, genuinely wanting to know. It had always been like this, with Merlin the butt of Arthur’s jokes and Leon calling Arthur out on his ridiculousness. 

Arthur frowned. “I harass Leon, too.” 

“Not in the same way.” 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, and Merlin felt the beginnings of a discomfort he hadn’t quite wanted to create. “Nevermind,” he said, dismissing the subject. “So, you’re off work, then? Any plans?” He opened the biscuits and shoved one into his mouth, offering them to Arthur. 

“Oh no,” Arthur said, shaking his head, “don’t change the subject. You brought it up. Obviously this is something that’s been on your mind. I just always thought that—I don’t know, that you liked my pestering.” 

In spite of himself, Merlin flushed. It was true that in the early days of their acquaintance Arthur’s attentions, as rude as they sometimes were, had made him feel special. Merlin had never been popular at school, and when he’d gotten to uni, he’d been swept away by his gorgeous, well-loved, self-confident friend: Arthur was everything he wasn’t and yet he still liked Merlin, despite his awkwardness, despite the fact that, well, he was gay. That gangly, insecure kid was mostly gone, but he supposed hints of him remained. 

“Have I been a bad friend?” Arthur’s blue eyes regarded him, his tone completely serious. It was so disconcerting that Merlin shoved another biscuit in his mouth, feeling ridiculous as he recalled so many instances of Arthur’s friendship over the years: how Arthur had invited him to his summer house the year that Merlin’s own father had died, how he’d helped pay for Merlin’s books the semester he couldn’t afford it, how he’d punched a chap in the face one night at a pub for calling Merlin a fag. And then there had been that kiss. How tender Arthur had been until they both got carried away. It was easy to forget all those things, sometimes perhaps even better to. 

“No, you haven’t been a bad friend.” Merlin’s voice was hoarse with emotion he hoped would be misunderstood as the consequence of filling his mouth with yet a chocolaty digestive. 

“Can I be sincere for a moment? I know, try not to die of shock.”

Merlin managed a mumbled ‘mmm-hmm’.

“I might not act it sometime, but I consider you my best mate. I wouldn’t want anything to get in the way of that, and if you think I’m not behaving properly toward you, well, I hope you’d set me straight. I suppose I was a bit harsh last week. I—” Arthur broke off, a puzzled expression settling over his face. “You all right? You seem to be stress eating.” 

Merlin was, indeed, stress eating; he’d polished off half the packet without even knowing it. All of this talk of friendship coupled with Arthur’s insistence on looking him directly in the eye was unsettling. Arthur the Git was easy to ignore and dismiss, but this sincere Arthur with the worried expression—this Arthur was worrisome. Of course, he couldn’t tell Arthur that, but Arthur had recognized his number one anxiety give-away. Fumbling for an answer, he blurted: “I didn’t get the British Library job. They said they ‘decided to go with another candidate’. I think it was an internal hire.” 

Arthur grimaced. “Arseholes.”

“At least they called to let me know.” Despite his disappointment over being rejected by the library, Merlin felt a strange wave a relief to have successfully changed the tenor of the conversation. 

“Ah, fuck ‘em. You don’t need that bloody job.” 

“I do, actually. It would have been a perfect fit; you should have seen some of things they showed me—manuscripts and books with only one extant copy in the world. And the art—do you know how many medieval maps they have?”

“I’m guessing from the ‘nerds gone wild’ expression on your face, a lot?”

Merlin stuck his tongue out. “Shut up. It’s very exciting.” 

“I’m sure it’s riveting.” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for me to give up and start thinking about doing something else. Something more practical that’s not the coffee shop.” 

Arthur snorted, then snagged the packet of biscuits and fastidiously removed one. “You mean working at some boring nine-to-five desk job—for which you’re over-qualified—and answering to some knob who thinks he’s better than you? Sounds perfectly reasonable.” 

“Why not? It’s good enough for most of the world. What makes me so special that I think I’m cut out for a different sort of life? And anyway, you’re one to talk—you love your job.”

Finishing his biscuit, Arthur shrugged. “Sometimes I love it—sometimes not. Being promoted to junior partner is great, yeah, but I literally work all the time, and if I fuck up, well, a lot of people are watching. The pressure isn’t exactly enjoyable.”

“You never fuck up.” 

Arthur grinned. “That’s true.” 

“I just don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I’m barely able to afford my rent.”

“You know you can always—”

Merlin raised his hand in objection. They’d been over this before, just after he’d lost his job. “No, Arthur. I don’t want your money.”

“It could be a loan until you get back on your feet.” 

“Arthur, no.”

“Well, have it your way,” he said. “But the Merlin Emrys _I_ know wouldn’t have given up on something he loved just because a few doors got shut in his face. The Merlin Emrys _I_ know got a scholarship to Cambridge and came out at the top of his class. The Merlin Emrys _I_ —”

“You’re really insufferable, do you know that?” 

“Sometimes it slips my mind, but I’ve always got you here to remind me, thankfully.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, happy now that the proper dynamic between them had been restored.

With that, Arthur stood and brushed off his trousers. “I’ve got to go back to the office . . . meeting in an hour.”

Rising and following Arthur to the door, Merlin tried to stem his disappointment; he’d just been about to propose they go out for a pint. It had been months since they’d spent any time together alone. “Well, thanks for stopping by. And for the biscuits.” 

“Don’t forget those horrible weeds.” Arthur shuddered and made a face.

“Oh, and those.”

Arthur paused in the corridor. “Listen, about the bet. If you want to call it off, it’s okay with me. I won’t make you wear assless chaps, but I will ask you to come and clean my loo.” 

“And let you off the hook that easily? Not in a million years,” Merlin said. “In fact, I’m rather enjoying myself.” 

“I bet. Eighteen? Were his parents at home?” Arthur teased. 

He couldn’t stop the flush that warmed his cheeks, remembering Percy. “Shut up. We came here—er, bad choice of words. And anyway, you’re just jealous.” 

Arthur gave him a funny look. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update on how the story is shaping up. I'm estimating 12 chapters in total at this point (so we're halfway there) and I should have chapter seven up tomorrow. I appreciate the comments! 
> 
> Thanks to AsyaAna for the beta and to Emmy for the britpick, as always. xo
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own, and no offense is intended.

“Shite! Fuck!” Merlin swore under his breath, yanking his hand out from under the espresso machine; the stupid thing was leaking scalding hot water again, and they’d just got it fixed the week before. “Gaius!” he called over his shoulder, lifting his burnt hand. 

“Oh, not again.” Gaius came over, clucking and shaking his head. He banged the stainless steel relic on the side.

“Maybe we should just get a new one.” 

“I think you might be right, my boy.” 

For all the time he spent here at the shop, Gaius seemed to know very little about the café business. 

A queue of customers had formed, so Merlin made the best of the situation, keeping his extremities out of the way as he brewed one complicated coffee after another. Most of the people he recognized, even knew their orders by heart, and he realised with chagrin he’d been working at the Dragon Café much longer than he’d ever intended. 

At least the work was monotonous enough that he could let his mind drift, but unfortunately that wasn’t as appealing lately—his mind kept going places where it shouldn’t go. 

It was this stupid bet. For over a month, Merlin had gone to clubs on the weekend, mostly with Leon but sometimes with other friends, finding some fit bloke to dance with and occasionally getting sucked off in the loos. It was like being a fresher again—and not in a good way. He hadn’t gone home with anyone, nor invited anyone back to his flat, and if he was honest with himself the experiences since Percival hadn’t been all that fulfilling. He’d gotten off, sure, but usually with his eyes closed, imagining a previous lover or once (okay, maybe more than once)—Arthur. 

The only explanation for the fantasy was that Merlin had gone mad, so he justified Arthur’s unwelcome appearance by comparing it to one of those moments where one’s mum nips into one’s head mid-sex and it makes things terribly awkward. Only . . . it didn’t make things awkward. It got him off like a rocket. So not like imagining one’s mum then. Fuck.

Maybe he just liked the idea of Arthur on his knees. 

Whatever it was, it was troublesome, especially since after their conversation at his flat when Arthur was problematically sweet, the other Arthur—the Git—had returned in full force.

Apparently things were going well with Elena, and Arthur was so assured he would win the bet as to be insufferable, but Merlin wasn’t convinced. Arthur had never been overly vocal about women he dated, and so when every sentence contained ‘Elena’, Merlin was suspicious. ‘Oh, Elena is so incredibly funny; you’ll never believe what she said’, ‘Oh, Elena makes the most glorious blackberry and apple crumble—I do love a woman who can cook’, ‘Oh, I never knew what making love was until Elena’. Gag. 

So of course Merlin did what he had to do—he countered with stories (invented) of his own, including one tale of double penetration that he was sure had successfully scarred Arthur for life. Oh, and then there was the time with men’s Team GB Swimming—and yes, that bloke _was_ gay, wink, wink. Wasn’t it so brilliant to be single? He’d never been happier. This bet was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Poor Arthur, to have given up such a life for the doldrums of monogamy.

Maybe Merlin was laying it on a little thick, but if he had to listen to one more description of Elena’s charms and virtues, he was going to murder Arthur. He didn’t think a jury of his peers would convict him. 

“Merlin? Helloooo?” A hand waved in front of his face, startling him out of his thoughts. Merlin snapped his gaze up, coming face to face with none other than . . . bloody Arthur. He looked gorgeous in his Mac, open at the neck. He grinned at Merlin smugly. “Can we get some service here?” 

It was only then that Merlin realised that Arthur wasn’t alone. A petite woman with blonde, shoulder-length, curly hair and a bright smile stood beside him. 

“Hello,” she said in a pleasant voice. “I’m Elena. Merlin, I’ve heard so much about you from Arthur.” 

Collecting himself, Merlin managed a smile. “Hi.” He shook her proffered hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.” He wondered if he was grinning too broadly; it felt like his smile was plastered on his face.

“All good, I hope.”

“Of course. Arthur tells me you’re an excellent cook.” 

“Oh, please,” she said modestly, “I can manage but I’m not that great.” 

“Hush, of course you are. Elena wanted to come by,” Arthur said, putting his arm around her shoulder and drawing her close. She beamed up at him, clearly besotted. Merlin felt something tight and unpleasant coil in his gut. 

“Glad you did,” he lied, “what can I get you?”

What ensued was the most nauseating display of couple decision-making he’d ever witnessed— _Do you want to split something?_ Yes, sure, that would be lovely. _Shall we get the chocolate cake?_ But I know you prefer strawberry sponge cake, that’s fine with me. _Oh, but you adore chocolate. Why not get both?_ Oh, but I’m watching my weight. _Please, you’re gorgeous as you are._ But I’m not terribly hungry. Let’s just get the strawberry sponge and share. _If that’s what you’d like._

Finally Arthur turned to him and nodded, adding, “two spoons.” He was rubbing the side of Elena’s arm in tiny, comforting circles. 

“Coming right up,” Merlin gritted through his teeth. 

As soon as he turned away, he let his smile fall. Strawberry sponge, chocolate cake, like they needed any more sweet. He was still shocked that Elena actually existed—and that perhaps all of the things Arthur had been saying over the past few weeks were . . . true. He really did like her. It wasn’t a revelation that Merlin could wrap his head around; he’d spent far too much time dismissing the stories as part of Arthur’s game, but now, to be confronted in the flesh. That changed things. 

“One strawberry sponge cake,” he said, turning back to them. “The spoons are over there. Will there be anything else?” 

“Two coffees.” 

Oh good, something they could easily agree on. 

He poured the coffee and waited with the patience of a saint as the two of them debated who should pay. _But you got the film last night._ But you got dinner. _But you got lunch last week._ And on, and on, and on.

“It’s on the house,” Merlin said, interrupting them, sure he would go mad. 

“That’s so kind of you.” Elena smiled at him and her whole face lit up. “Arthur, you never told me how sweet Merlin was.” 

Arthur gave Merlin a cheeky grin. “That’s because he’s usually not. Today is anomalous.” 

“Why would I be sweet to you?”

“Because you adore me.” 

“Hardly.”

They stood staring awkwardly until Elena picked up her coffee and the cake. “I’ll just go find us a table, Arthur.” 

“So,” Arthur said once she’d gone, “what do you think?” 

_I think you’re both annoying twats._ “She seems very nice.”

“Doesn’t she? So pleasant. And to think I was afraid of this, seems so silly now.”

“Imagine that.”

“And what about you?” Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows. “Any plans for tonight? Swimming competition?”

The question reminded Merlin that it was Friday, and that no, he hadn’t any plans. Even considering going out to a club tonight seemed unappealing. But maybe he should. Maybe he should try and make the effort now that he knew Arthur wasn’t lying. He felt a bit like a fraud. 

Instead of answering directly he just smiled and cocked his head. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Arthur frowned at him and leaned forward, looking uncomfortable.

“What?”

“ _Mer_ lin . . .” 

“ _Ar_ thur.” 

“You are . . . being careful, right? When you go out to these clubs, you do use—”

“Oh my god,” Merlin whispered harshly. “You are not seriously giving me a safe sex lecture at my place of employ.” A few more customers had formed a queue, and Merlin glanced over at them. 

At least Arthur had the decency to seem abashed. “Sorry, sorry. Out of line. I just . . . I worry.” 

“Well don’t. I’m not stupid, am I? I know how to use a Johnnie, Arthur. I can even put one on with my mouth.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, giving Merlin a certain evil satisfaction. It was the least he was owed after that sorry performance of hetero-love. 

“I’m sure that’s an interesting trick.”

“It is. In fact, it’s so impressive I once made a man come just from that alone.” That much was true, although they had both been seventeen at the time and so coming at the drop of a hat wasn’t really unusual. He didn’t know why he’d said it. 

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said, his voice dark, “is that something you should be discussing at _your place of employ_?” 

“Um.” Merlin flushed. “Just shut up and go eat your ruddy strawberry sponge.” By now Elena was looking over at them. When she saw Merlin notice she gave a little wave. He hated her. 

He hated them both.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Asya_Ana for the beta and to Emmy for the britpick! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not mine. No offense is intended.

A week later, Merlin found himself in his kitchen in front of a worktop full of spices he’d spent a small fortune on and the most complicated curry recipe he’d ever attempted—if he’d ever attempted a curry recipe, which he hadn’t. Leon and Arthur were coming over for an afternoon of football on the telly, and when Arthur had suggested picking up takeaway, Merlin had protested. He could bloody well cook a meal for the three of them. It wasn’t rocket science, was it? 

Only it turned out making a curry sort of was like rocket science. There were strange pods and seeds to grind and pastes to fry and onions to chop and all of the ingredients had to be added _just so_ or the entire thing would go up in smoke. And go up in smoke it did. Merlin hadn’t been cooking for a half-hour when he’d managed to burn the whole lot. So he did what any self-respecting man would do—he called his local curry shop and placed an order, then disguised his mistake by doing away with the burned mess and pouring the new curry into a pot to simmer on the stove. Voila, a home-cooked meal for his guests. 

It wasn’t that he was competing with Elena: _that_ would be ridiculous. He was simply tired of Arthur’s insinuations that he couldn’t feed himself without a man around the house to do it for him. It had absolutely nothing to do with Elena and her crumble.

Leon and Arthur arrived soon after, laden with beer and crisps, and as soon as they’d come in and divested themselves of coats and scarves, Leon wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

It was the lingering odour of Merlin’s failed experiment combined with the more appetising aroma of the takeaway.

“I’ve cooked.” 

“Oh. Yay,” Arthur said with fake enthusiasm.

“Shut up. It’s really good.”

“This _is_ actually really good,” Arthur said a bit later, once they’d all plated themselves and gathered round the telly. “Are you sure you made this?” 

Merlin glared at him. “Yes, I’m sure. I even bought the spices and everything.” As long as Arthur didn’t look in the bin, his secret should stay safe.

Arthur seemed convinced, and waved his free hand. “Okay, okay, I believe you.” 

“Another happy consequence of living the single life?” Leon asked helpfully. 

“That’s exactly right. I’m expanding all sorts of horizons.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Arthur murmured through a mouthful of curry. “And positions.” 

Okay, so Merlin _may_ have conjured a story about an extremely fit yoga instructor who’d bent him into a pretzel while they fucked and fucked for hours, but he couldn’t be blamed—not after that horrid spectacle the week before at the Dragon Café. 

“Oh, do tell,” Leon said. “I haven’t heard about this one.”

Arthur gave Merlin a quizzical look, “But you said you met the bloke at the club with Leon last weekend.”

“ _After_ the club with Leon,” Merlin explained quickly, standing with his plate clenched in his hands. “Anyone want more curry?”

His heart was pounding as he retreated to the kitchen, Arthur trailing behind. He really would have to be more careful keeping his story straight or else Arthur would learn he was lying and the humiliation would be too great to endure. 

As he dished himself and Arthur more food out of the pan, Kilgharrah meowed at them as if he hadn’t already had dinner. 

“You can’t eat curry, stupid thing,” Merlin said. 

Arthur frowned, then bent down and scratched Kilgharrah behind the ears. The traitor arched up into the touch, purring loudly. “So I’m not the only one he talks to like that,” Arthur said in a voice of deep commiseration. “Poor kitty.” 

“Oh shut it. He’s fine. And I do not talk to you like that.” 

“You do. You’re cruel, Merlin.” From his position on the floor, Arthur gazed up at him, making a sad face—it was like Merlin had two ridiculous animals instead of one. He fought the impulse to reach down and pet Arthur despite the fact his hair looked extremely soft falling over his forehead into his eyes. 

“Oi!” Leon called from the other room. “Footie’s on!” 

Merlin didn’t give a fig about football, but his friends did, and so to placate them he often endured afternoons of hollering and drinking far too much. Arsenal was down at halftime, and both Leon and Arthur were irate, directing lavish insults at the other team while Merlin half-listened, half-slept, curled up on the couch with a bottle of beer. There was something comforting about having his mates here, even if they were yelling; it was nice to have a presence at the other end of the settee, even if it was Arthur. And if Merlin let his cold feet stretch down and wedge themselves between Arthur’s thigh and the cushion, it was fine, because he was so full and sleepy and warm and—

He jolted up, splashing his half-drunk beer on his shirt. 

“Fall asleep there, mate?” Arthur asked, smiling. He didn’t say anything about Merlin’s wandering feet, which were now safety curled underneath him.

“I guess so.” 

“Ah, this match is shite,” Leon complained. “Anyone want another beer?” 

They all did, and they spent the remaining half of the game talking of other things, none of which, to Merlin’s great relief, included the bet. 

That is, until Leon asked about it. “How’s it going anyway? Any winner in sight?”

Neither of them spoke for a while, and then Arthur said, “I’d say we’re about . . . neck and neck.” 

Merlin nodded, not really wanting to add anything else.

“And the great Arthur Pendragon, the scourge of virgins everywhere—he’s finally found someone he cares about enough to give up his philandering ways.”

“I suppose you could say that.” 

“Well cheers to that, mate,” Leon said, raising his beer. Arthur followed suit, and so did Merlin—half-heartedly. “Though I still don’t understand how you can shag women at all.”

Arthur gave him a curious look. “You’ve really never fucked a woman—even before you knew you were gay?”

“I haven’t,” Merlin said. 

“Me neither,” Leon said. “And I always knew I was gay, well, ever since I could get a stiffy.” 

Merlin nodded. “I second that!” 

“Anyway, Arthur,” Leon continued, “it’s a bit of a double-standard to expect that I’ve fucked a girl; it’s not like you’ve ever had sex with a man.” 

The statement was offered as a challenge: neither Leon nor Merlin predicted Arthur would pause, and then level a stare at them.

“I have, actually.” 

Merlin’s jaw dropped to the floor and beyond—probably all three stories to the ground. He was pretty sure Leon sprayed beer out of his nose. They exchanged a glance in which the following sentiments were conveyed: _Is he having us on? Did you know about this? He must be messing with us. Fuck me, he’s serious._

“You’re serious?” Leon asked, incredulous. 

“Yeah.” Arthur—Arthur ever-loving Pendragon—was blushing and staring at the beer in his hand. 

“When?” Merlin managed, trying to maintain a calm exterior though his insides had started to do all sorts of acrobatic things.

“It was at uni . . . after . . . you know.” He looked at Merlin, and Merlin knew exactly what he was talking about. He wanted to die, and blushed from toe to head. Hadn’t they both successfully repressed this? 

“ _Wait_ just one second here,” Leon interrupted, slamming his beer down on the coffee table and leaning forward. “Are you telling me that something happened between the two of _you_?”

“It was nothing, just a kiss,” Merlin said, hastily glancing away. Suddenly the footie game was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“I can’t believe you never told me.”

“Sorry, maybe we should have taken out an ad in the school newsletter,” Arthur deadpanned, shifting on the settee. 

“Wait, wait, wait, so hang on a minute.” Leon was nearly falsetto with glee as he switched topics. “Where/what/when/why/who?”

“It was a long time ago. I hardly remember,” Arthur grumbled. Talk about a lying liar who lies. Merlin chanced a sideways glimpse and noted Arthur channelling his extreme discomfort by shredding his beer label. “It happened once. Er, twice. With Lance DuLac. I was . . . curious. We both were. And one night . . . yeah. It was after practice.” 

Things began slotting into place—the kiss they’d shared, the moment of drunken arousal. It was one thing for him, who was gay and open about it, but for Arthur it must have been earth shattering. So he’d been confused, maybe he’d just wanted to see if there was something more to it. Obviously, nothing had ever developed since then. A failed experiment, then. A failed experiment that had happened twice. 

Leon continued nattering on. “Shut up. I don’t believe it. Everything I thought I knew about the world is wrong. Wait, is this the apocalypse? But what about Lance and Gwen? Fuck, that brings a whole new level of meaning to all of my old wank fantasies. Ah, the thwarted possibilities.” 

Arthur snorted.

“He ended up marrying Gwen. We were in touch for a while after uni,” Merlin said. His fingers and toes had gone numb.

Lance and Gwen had been the darlings of their class—they’d met early freshman year and had dated through graduation and beyond. There was no couple so in love, so perfect for one another, so dedicated and loyal. But now Arthur was basically confessing that he and Lance had an affair. And with that knowledge came a sickening, sinking feeling. _I kissed him first. Why wasn’t it with me?_

As if he even had to ask. Beautiful Lance, gorgeous hair, fit body, as popular as Arthur—if one was going to perform a big gay experiment, of course he’d be the perfect choice. Which he had apparently been. Yes, the curry and beer and emotions roiling in his gut were threatening to emerge in an unattractive mix all over his floor.

“So Gwen never knew?” Leon asked.

“No. Well, maybe Lance told her in the end. I don’t know. Anyway, that’s one of the reasons I never mentioned it. Yeah. So there’s that.” Arthur slapped his thigh and downed the rest of his beer.

“No, no, no.” Leon looked like a mad scientist who’d just discovered a portal into the fourth dimension. “You have to tell us at least the basics. Was it good? Who topped? You’re both kind of toppy. Or did you switch?” 

“I’m not telling you all that! But it was . . . not . . . bad.” 

Leon smirked. “Not bad? Well, you are a ladies man, after all. I’m impressed, though, Arthur. Never thought you had it in you.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it.” 

Now it was Merlin’s turn to spray beer out of his nose.

Gradually the conversation turned back to the match—Arsenal had levelled it—but Merlin was still reeling, wanting both of them to leave so he could sit with this information and figure out what it meant. So he could mope because he wasn’t attractive enough for Arthur’s big gay experiment. 

“Merlin?” Leon asked as if he’d finally remembered there was a third person in the room. 

“You don’t look well.”  
“It’s just the curry . . . it’s not agreeing with me.” 

“Still needs a bit of work, maybe?” Arthur added, giving his shoulder a light punch. Oh, yes, now he felt so much better. 

Leon was more concerned. “If you’re ill, maybe we should go.” 

Arthur murmured something in assent, and Merlin gazed stoically at the telly as he and Leon gathered their things. The door clicked shut, and once Merlin was alone, he let out a long, dramatic sigh. 

“Hey, mate?” Leon’s voice behind him was a surprise. He nearly leapt off the couch, clutching at his chest.

“I thought you’d gone.”

“Nah, I wanted to help you clean up.” 

“All right. Cheers.”

They went about the task silently, and if Leon discovered the empty takeaway and the mess of burnt curry in the bin, he didn’t comment on it. Finally, however, once all was washed and dried, Leon grabbed his shoulder. He was wearing that expression on his face . . . the one that he always wore when he meant business. 

“Mate, please don’t tell me you’re still in love with Arthur.” 

“What? _Still_ in love with—Arth—I have no idea wha—”

“Okay, stop. If you can stand there and look me in the eye and say, ‘Leon, I’m not arse over tits in love with Arthur Pendragon’, then I’ll leave it be.” 

Merlin squared his shoulders, but the words died in his throat. He couldn’t deny it. Fucking hell.

“We’re friends. It would never happen. He’s not interested in . . . me like that. Or men. That thing with Lance,” Merlin could barely even say it, “so what? People experiment. For fuck’s sake, he’s got a girlfriend, and you should have seen them, like a ruddy married couple. And she’s nice. I actually liked her. Or would have. Maybe.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I met her.” 

“No, I mean that he’s not interested in men—or you.” 

“What?” 

Leon grabbed Merlin’s arm and dragged him through the kitchen back towards the settee, then pushed him down with more force than necessary. 

“I’m saying . . . Listen, what I’m about to say is against my better judgement, and honestly is conjecture based on my—admittedly astute—powers of observation.” 

“Just spit it out.” 

“I think that Arthur feels something more for you; I always have. Just like I always knew you were in love with him. The way you’re always teasing each other . . . it’s like this awkward, maladjusted mating ritual or something. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

“You never said anything.” How could Leon know when Merlin didn’t? Sure, there’d been attraction, but Merlin had carefully monitored his feelings, quashing anything resembling more, keeping Arthur at a distance and safely out of his heart. Or he’d thought he had, at least until this stupid bet. But how could he deny it after his full-body reaction to learning about Lance? Not to mention his instant dislike of Elena. 

“Of course not. You’re my best mate, and Arthur is too, but he’s not exactly . . . relationship material. And you are, my friend, no matter how many sexy stories you make up about one offs with yoga instructors and celebrity swimmers.” 

“I didn’t make up—okay, fine I did. Don’t tell Arthur.” This conversation wasn’t helping Merlin’s nausea. His stomach felt as if it contained a nest of bees. 

“I won’t, you daft git. But I never brought it up because I didn’t want to feed the flame; I didn’t want to see you get hurt. And then after uni . . . well, life happened and until recently I thought maybe you’d gotten over it. But his admission today? He didn’t have to tell us that. Maybe he’s trying to, you know, open the door.” 

“But Arthur’s not gay. He’s probably been with a hundred women. Or more. Who even knows?”

“Exactly.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You think that Arthur has been living a promiscuous life fucking all of the women in London because of manpain, and that he somehow harbours some twisted secret gay love for me?” It was laughable, and so Merlin laughed. He sounded like a crazy person.

“I don’t know. Maybe. That’s what you’ve been doing going from one relationship to the next.” 

“I’m not—” Okay. Leon had a point. “But why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“Any number of reasons. I have no idea what goes on in that bizarre, horribly attractive head of his. But just to give you one: maybe he’s scared. Just like you are. Pot, meet kettle. If I’m right, you’re both idiots.” 

“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“That’s half the problem, mate. You don’t think you’re worth it. Worth him.”

“You are officially ten times worse than my mum.” 

Leon sniggered. “I’m just trying to help. This bet you have going on . . . Maybe it’s time to end the stupid thing and snog him silly.” 

Merlin was pretty sure that was easier said than done.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Emmy for the Britpick! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was a fitting end to this terrible week, Merlin thought, staring at the ceiling and waiting for the spinning to stop, that he should wind up drunk and sick on the floor of his loo. He was starting to think maybe he’d been an arse. But Arthur was a bigger arse. Fuck, but he had such a nice arse. 

Kilgharrah nosed the door open and padded over, looking down on Merlin with a doleful expression.

“I’m so glad you can’t talk,” Merlin said. His stomach gurgled again, and he mustered the strength to heave off the floor and hang his head over the toilet just in time. Ugh, Highland’s finest. Never again. 

Kilgharrah meowed and then, with a haughty flick of his tail, left Merlin to his disgrace. 

“Fuck you, too.” 

He flopped back on the cold tile and tried to recall how everything had gone so spectacularly wrong. It started the day of Arthur’s big reveal. Yes, that was it . . . 

The realisation that he was perhaps, maybe, okay definitely in love with Arthur had first inspired a debilitating panic that could only be assuaged by curling on the settee and watching Doctor Who reruns until he feared he might _exterminate_ himself if he had to listen to Dalek voices one moment longer. He had to get out of his flat. 

So he went on a walk.

Merlin loved his neighbourhood. He knew the old couple that ran the chip shop and all of the university students that worked part-time at the small art house cinema. There was an old bookshop on the corner filled floor to rafter with piles of musty classics and not-so-classics. This was where Merlin found himself combing the stacks and trying hard not to think about Lance and Arthur and whatever they’d got up to back at uni. All he had now were fractured memories of that time, but he scoured through them trying to recall what had happened after that ill-advised kiss—the one that had obviously inspired Arthur’s gay crisis. The fresh wound smarted again at the thought he’d been passed over for Lance. Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame Arthur. Lance did have the most brilliant smile.

Snog him silly, Leon had said. He has feelings for you, Leon had said. Well, those were nice sentiments. But what was he supposed to do—just walk up, grab Arthur’s face between his hands, and go for it? Sure, there had been moments where perhaps a disinterested third party might suspect Arthur fancied him. His attention at uni, his random acts of kindness throughout the years, and yes, the teasing—all of these things that Merlin had once attributed to friendship had begun to gleam as if from under a new light. But even more powerful than these hopeful thoughts were countless imagined scenarios, all of them resulting in disaster and abject humiliation. Arthur would hit him or simply recoil with disgust. He would feel sorry for Merlin. Or, worst of all, Arthur would be utterly confused and freaked out and their friendship would gradually deteriorate into nothingness. 

He was scared, he realised, his finger trailing over a row of dusty pulp novels from the fifties. He was fucking scared shitless.

And so he did what any self-respecting man in his situation would do. Er, no, actually, he didn’t. He hid from Arthur instead.

***

The call from the Lambeth Palace Library came on a Wednesday and took Merlin completely unaware. He’d almost forgotten he’d applied, since it had been over a month with no word, but the woman he spoke with was very enthusiastic. They had an opening for assistant curator and would he be interested in coming in for an interview the following day? His application had impressed them and they looked forward to meeting him.

Merlin was ecstatic. 

He wore his grey suit and a bright tie, made sure his hair was artfully tousled, and he forwent his contact lenses for his hipster glasses, figuring he better use his youth to his advantage and present himself as a balance of cool/serious. He was a kickarse art historian with a passion for medieval manuscripts and a killer smile. With his powers of conservation he would preserve the hell out of priceless church documents and create stunning displays that would bring tears to the eyes of visitors from around the world. He was going to fucking get this job.

It appeared to work, because the interview went off like a charm and he did. He got the bloody job. 

All was well. All was perfect. Months of self-doubt sloughed off his shoulders like an old, crackled skin. He felt new. He grinned down at Nimueh, one of the librarians who’d interviewed him, pumping her hand with more vigour than perhaps was necessary. It had come as a surprise how pretty and young she was—not at all the middle-aged stodgy woman he’d expected. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, then, Merlin,” she said.

“Looking forward to it.” 

And then the words that froze him in his Italian loafers: “do tell Arthur I said hello.” She gave him a brief smile, arching one perfectly manicured eyebrow, and in that moment Merlin knew. This was one of Arthur’s conquests.

_What. The. Fuck._

He was barely out of the door before he was dialling Arthur’s number, anger rising off of his body like steam. 

Arthur answered his mobile with a rushed voice. “Heya, mate. I’m about to go into a meeting. I’ll call you back.”

“Just a second,” Merlin said, seething underneath his calm tone. He wanted to see if Arthur would admit it. “Guess where I am?”

“Er . . . no idea?”

“I’m at Lambeth Palace Library. Got offered a job.” 

A pause. “Really? That’s fantastic.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

A longer pause. A sigh. “She wasn’t supposed to tell you.” 

“Yeah, well she bloody well did. _Do tell Arthur I said hello._ Though Nimueh had seemed like a perfectly nice woman, he couldn’t disguise his derision. 

“I don’t see why you’re so angry. You got the job and you deserve it.”

“Because you called in a bloody favour to some girl you shagged, not because of my merit. Do you know how that makes me feel? Like shite, Arthur. I feel like shite.” He was louder now, startling pigeons and passers by. If he hadn’t been afraid of scuffing his only nice shoes, he would have kicked something. Preferably Arthur. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “I should have told you.” 

“You’re damn right you should have—”

“But you’re the one who’s always saying you need connections to get anywhere, and that’s true of any job. It doesn’t mean you’re not the best at what you do. It just means you’re going to be recognised for it now. Isn’t that what you want?”

All Merlin could think of was the woman’s knowing smile. It was a smile that had said, ‘yes, I’ve fucked Arthur Pendragon and it was bloody brilliant’. Merlin was probably the only one in London who hadn’t had a go by now. “I’m frankly surprised she took your call to begin with, the way you treat people,” he said, feeling mean. “What did you promise her? Another ‘date’?” 

A chuckle came from the end of the line, like Arthur found it funny. It was not the reaction he expected. “Merlin—would you just settle down and let me explain? You’re being hysterical.”

“Hysterical.” Perhaps he was, but his world was crashing down around him. Arthur Pendragon gay? Not in a million years. That hadn’t been the arched eyebrow of a dissatisfied customer. He liked to fuck women and the thing with Lance had been a fluke, Leon’s conjecture about Arthur’s manpain and gay love was bollocks. All it had served was to open up a box of messy feelings in Merlin’s chest that until now he’d kept tightly locked away. Merlin fought to keep the frustrated tears out of his voice. “I’m just a hysterical fag, Arthur. You’re right. There is absolutely no reason why I should be upset.” 

Someone said something to Arthur in the background, and Merlin heard his muffled response. Then, Arthur said, “Listen, I’m late. I’ve got to go to this meeting but we’ll talk later, yeah? Be mad at me all you want, but you have a job now.” 

“I don’t, actually.”

“What?” Arthur’s voice was clipped. “You didn’t turn it down.”

“I’m not looking for charity, from you or anyone else.” Especially not some one-off who has the nerve to smile at me like we’re chums. 

“Merlin, you idiot. Listen—” 

“Thanks, but I’ve heard enough of your insults for today. Have fun at your meeting.”

He hung up, wiping miserably at his eyes under his glasses. Never had he felt like such a fool. 

The gay bar Merlin entered wasn’t one he’d been to in a while, but he recognised the bartender from the gym, a tall, burly bloke with hot muscles and a full arm sleeve tattoo. They greeted each other and Merlin ordered a double whisky with ice, draining half of it in one go. Fuck if it was only five o’clock. He was getting pissed.

Hours went by and he did just that. Eventually Merlin found himself with the bartender’s tongue down his throat in a back alley: a quick session of mutual groping that ended up in an unsatisfactory, sticky climax down the front of his nice trousers. 

He had absolutely no idea how he’d gotten home afterwards, only that now he was so very tired and so very stupid. And he couldn’t stand up. 

With the certainty and despair of the drunk, Merlin groaned. Things had gone to hell, and even the short trip to his bed seemed an impossible quest. He closed his eyes in the hopes it would stop the spinning, but he only saw Arthur’s stupid, stupid face.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day! That's right, folks. Enjoy.
> 
> Thanks so much to AsyaAna for the beta and Emmy for the Britpick! xo
> 
> Disclaimer: don't own, as usual.

_Hello, Mr. Emrys. This is Nimueh Sharpe from the Lambeth Palace Library. I’m calling to apologise for what I realise you must have seen as an inappropriate comment, but you left in such a rush I had no time to explain. We were already very interested in your application when Ar—Mr. Pendragon phoned in his recommendation. In any case, the rest of the board was quite disappointed when you turned down the position and I hope you can be persuaded to reconsider. We’ve interviewed over ten people and you are by far the most qualified candidate. Please ring me back at—_

Merlin played the message over again, leaning against the counter with his hand to his throbbing temple. Apparently Nimueh had called him almost immediately after he’d left the library, but he’d shut off his mobile after his conversation with Arthur just in case the prat had decided to ring him back. And then Merlin had gotten drunk and wound up passed out on the floor of his loo. Luckily, at least, his shift at the café was almost over. 

His antics on the previous day had begun to seem . . . dramatic. A bit. Yes, he still thought he had a right to be arsed off about the way Arthur had imperiously stepped in, but what had he expected? After all, Arthur had always been like that and it had never bothered Merlin before. And he also had to own up to the fact that maybe his rage had less to do with Arthur calling in a favour and more with the fact he’d shagged Nimueh. But Arthur wasn’t his boyfriend, for god’s sakes, and never would be. Obviously he’d gotten confused after his conversation with Leon. After all, there was Elena to consider. Blonde, short, _female_. The exact opposite of Merlin. 

Sighing, he pocketed his mobile and went back to making coffee, thankful that Gaius had at least finally coughed up some money for a new espresso machine. 

He rang Leon on his way home from work, covered from head to toe with cappuccino courtesy of a rambunctious child who’d ploughed his mother into Merlin as he cleared off tables in the café. The woman had apologised profusely, dabbing at him with her napkin until he’d gently but firmly removed her hands. Not for the first time that day, he considered swallowing his pride and accepting the library job after all.

“Heya mate,” Leon said, voice chipper. “You sorted for tonight?”

“What’s—oh, shit. Of course.” He’d been so caught up in his teenaged melodrama he’d almost forgotten Leon’s birthday celebration. 

“You forgot.” 

“No, no. I’m looking forward to it. How does it feel to be old?” 

“Har har. Anyway, be at the Purple Sword at ten, and remember, clothing is optional, but leather’s a must.”

Merlin snorted. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“And Merlin, I wanted to give you a heads up about Arthur.” Leon’s voice had adopted a conciliatory tone.

“Oh?” 

“He said he was bringing a plus-one.” 

“Why should that bother me?” Merlin asked, trying to keep his voice light. “I figured he’d take Elena.” The idea of blond and blondier at a leather bar crowded with gays filled him with a sort of perverse glee. 

“You haven’t talked to him, have you?”

“No. I haven’t. And you’re not going to say anything about it, either. Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s pointless. Arthur and I would never work. It’s never going to happen so we’re better off just forgetting about it. _I’m_ better off.” 

He was expecting some sort of protest, but Leon only sighed. “All right. I’ll say no more about it.” 

“Thank you.” 

“See you tonight.” 

“Cheers.”

***

The thought of another night of drinking was not a pleasant one, but by the evening Merlin’s hangover had worn off and he found himself considering his wardrobe.

He found the bizarre chain and leather vest combo that Leon had gifted him on his twenty-fifth birthday hanging in the back of his closet. He cast it with a scornful huff. While he didn’t dislike his chest, it wasn’t his most coveted asset. 

For a moment he considered limiting the leather to a simple studded belt, but then he imagined Leon’s disappointed expression and sighed. Yes, this was definitely a night for the black leather trousers. 

He hadn’t worn them in years, but was pleased to discover they still fit—snugly. He looked over his shoulder and was satisfied at the rounding effect on his arse. He pulled on a black sleeveless t-shirt and applied a bit of product to his hair, and then went on a search for his old Docs. 

When all was said and done, Merlin appraised himself in the mirror with rare satisfaction. More vigorous workouts at the gym had given him defined arms, and he looked slim without the gangliness of his twinkier years. Perhaps he’d get lucky tonight with some leather daddy while Arthur looked on, give him a taste of what it looked like when Merlin won a bet.

***

The bar was filled to capacity when Merlin arrived at half-ten, the music thumping. He’d had to stop off for a gift and wound up buying Leon a certificate to the gay spa, figuring someone at least should get a happy ending.

Morgana was chatting to the bartender in full dominatrix getup, and Merlin laughed and shook his head as he made his way past a group of hairy, bare-chested men towards her. 

“Hey. Where’s the man of the hour?” 

She grinned and motioned towards the dance floor, where Leon was currently sandwiched between two tall men, looking like he was having the time of his life. 

“Ah, the sweet beginnings of love,” Merlin said, accepting a beer and taking a sip. He made a point not to scan the room for Arthur. 

Soon he relaxed, talking to some of the blokes he knew and flirting with the ones he didn’t. A particularly fit otter that Merlin recognised as one of Leon’s office mates gave him the eye and they wound up dancing, arms tangling round each other in the crowd of hard male bodies. 

“You’re really hot,” the guy shout-whispered in his ear.

Merlin grinned. “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself.” 

He bumped into Leon and they danced for a while, joined by Morgana and one of her friends, until Merlin felt someone’s hand on his his back and heard a deep, _hiya blue eyes._

Whirling around, Merlin came face-to-face with Gwaine.

“Hey,” he said, surprised. 

“Wanna dance?”

Merlin nodded, allowing himself to be drawn against Gwaine’s chest, the beer he’d been drinking forgotten as they gained rhythm. 

“I didn’t know you were into leather,” said Gwaine. He had a gorgeous, devilish smile. 

“I’m not. I’m just here for Leon’s birthday.” He motioned over his shoulder. “I didn’t know _you_ were into leather.” 

“I’m not. I’m just here for you.” 

In spite of himself, Merlin felt a tingle in his belly. There was no reason he shouldn’t enjoy being with Gwaine, and when he felt hands slipping down to grope his arse, he melted into it, the hardness against his thigh letting him know how much Gwaine was enjoying himself. 

The song changed and Merlin closed his eyes, his smooth cheek chafed by Gwaine’s stubble. It was easy to let the cares of the previous day and night drift away, all thoughts of Arthur and Lance, of the bet, of jobs, overpowered by Gwaine’s spicy scent. And then Merlin felt the undeniable pressure of eyes upon him. 

Arthur stood by the bar in his direct line of sight. He was glaring at Merlin, his mouth drawn down in a scowl. Well, if he didn’t like men dancing together, he could just go straight to hell. And why in the world should he be the one sulking? Merlin lifted his chin and held the gaze for a moment and then closed his eyes, trying to regain the rhythm he’d lost at the first glimpse of Arthur. But it was too late. The pounding in his chest had nothing to do with dancing; he felt light-headed and unhappy. 

Another song. Arthur was still frowning. Merlin looked away, scanning the rest of the room for Elena’s blonde curls. He didn’t see her, but that didn’t mean anything. She could be in the loo. 

“You all right?” Gwaine asked. 

“Yeah,” Merlin said, forcing a smile. He tried to enjoy Gwaine’s warm muscles under his hands, but now he felt like a bug under a microscope lens. When Gwaine’s lips connected with his neck, he froze. It was only with the most concerted effort that he persuaded his body to move again. 

And then there was a presence at his back, a warm pelvis and chest pressing against him, and a shockingly familiar voice. “Having fun?”

The lips attached to the voice grazed the lobe of his ear. 

Never in his life had he expected to be the filling of a Gwaine/Arthur sandwich. The thought wasn’t unappealing—not at all—but what in the world had gotten into Arthur? And where was Elena? “Arthur, what the hell are you doing?” Merlin hissed at him.

“Dancing with you.” For a straight bloke, Arthur had always been an excellent dancer. And now he was holding Merlin’s hips, pulling Merlin back to slot them together, and—dear god—gyrating. “You’re not still mad at me about yesterday, are you, _Mer_ lin?”

“Yes, I’m still mad, you bloody git,” Merlin said, hoping his words held conviction. Arthur’s hands slid up to his waist and gripped him there . . . almost possessively. 

His eyes flew to Gwaine, who was looking over Merlin’s shoulder with an expression somewhere on the road between irritated and bemused. 

“Looks like I made your boyfriend jealous,” he said, chuckling. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across Merlin’s cheek. 

Merlin had no idea what to do, so he continued dancing, wrapping his arms around Gwaine’s neck. The closer he moved to Gwaine, though, the more Arthur crowded him from behind. At one point he caught Morgana’s attention and she arched her eyebrow and shook her head. Arthur was nothing if not persistent. 

“If you haven’t noticed,” Merlin said over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Arthur just gave him a lazy smile, winding his arms around Merlin’s chest like he wasn’t the biggest cockblock in the world.

One song became another. “Three’s a crowd for me tonight,” Gwaine finally said with a disappointed smile. “Later, blue eyes.” 

Once he’d disappeared into the throng Merlin tried to turn around, but Arthur held him with strong, demanding hands.

“Arthur, what—” 

The lips were at his ear again. “I like your trousers.” 

Merlin’s head was swimming at Arthur’s proximity, all of his senses drinking up the closeness. But still he managed to rub his remaining brain cells together. “You’re insane. Are you drunk?” 

“Not drunk. Maybe insane.” And then Arthur allowed him to twist around but didn’t relinquish his hold. Merlin realised that he was fisting Arthur’s t-shirt, and that Arthur did look a bit insane. There was a mad edge to his grin.

“No, you don’t get to look at me like that, Arthur, not after that crap you pulled with the library.” 

Arthur frowned. He ran his hands up Merlin’s arms and around his back, and Merlin tried not to shiver. “I thought you might still be naffed off.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” Merlin replied, gathering some of his earlier indignation. “You made me feel like a complete tosser. Here I was thinking I actually got a job on my own.” 

“You did,” Arthur said. “Or at least you were going to. If you’d have let me explain I’d have said that Nimueh told me as much when I called. She said she’d put a good word in for you, and that’s all. I didn’t, how did you put it, ‘promise her a date’, and by that I presume you meant a fuck.”

Merlin was dimly aware they were still dancing, that Arthur looked far too pleased with himself. 

“So you did fuck her.” 

“ _Ages_ ago. Ancient history.” 

He scowled. “You think I’m pathetic. That I can’t even get a job without your help.” 

Arthur sighed in exasperation, and then he pulled Merlin closer so that they were cheek to cheek. It was incredibly distracting. “That’s not what I think and you know it! I admit I stuck my foot in it. I’m sorry, okay? Nimueh is an old friend and after you said you’d applied I couldn’t help myself. I should never have done it without talking to you. I just . . . hate to see the most brilliant person I know working at that ridiculous coffee shop.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes, but Arthur’s words, which confirmed the message Nimueh had left, began to assuage his anger. Arthur always did make it impossible to stay mad. It was one of his most infuriating qualities. 

“You’re a flattering bastard. And I’m still angry at you.” And yet his arms had somehow wound their way around Arthur’s neck. The only thing maintaining his dignity was the spare inch of space between their groins. 

“I know. I know. But take the job anyway. Please.” For a while, neither of them spoke. The song changed and Merlin realised that in all the years they’d known each other, they’d never danced like this for so long. And then, he thought he felt it again, Arthur’s soft lips against the shell of his ear. 

“Where’s Elena?” Merlin asked dumbly. Maybe Arthur just had a fetish that he’d never known about. An irresistible penchant for prominent ears. 

“You daft bugger. Do you really think I’m with Elena?” 

“Er . . . yes?”

“I have a confession to make.” Arthur pulled back and had the decency to look abashed. “Elena and I . . . well, we didn’t make it past the third date. But she’s become a friend and, well,” he winced. “I asked her to play along. Maybe we were a little too convincing.” 

“Are you fucking kidding?” 

“No. I’m . . . sorry.” He bit his lip. 

Merlin didn’t know whether to punch him or kiss him. “What do you mean? All that was staged? At the café—all the _you pay, no you pay, oh what kind of cake do you want with your bloody coffee_?”

A tiny smile crept onto Arthur’s face. “Yep.”

“You knobhead! Why?” 

“I don’t like to lose. And . . . you seemed to be . . . doing quite well for yourself.” Arthur arched his eyebrow. 

Merlin flushed. So his elaborate fibs had finally come to bite him in the arse. He tried to change the subject. “So you lied. All this time I thought—”

“Team GB, Merlin? Five times in one night with a yoga instructor?” Arthur smirked. 

“It could have happened.”

“I don’t doubt it, especially in these trousers. But it didn’t. Let’s just say we’re even.” 

“I hate you.” 

“No you don’t.” 

And then they were flush together chest to knee, and oh god, now Arthur would have evidence Merlin certainly did not hate him. 

“Um,” Merlin stammered, “well then if you’re not dating Elena, who’s your plus-one?” 

Arthur nodded to the right, and Merlin followed the gesture, surprised to see Percival dancing with Leon, their tongues duelling in a way that suggested they’d be slipping away for some privacy very soon. So much for the uni boy, Merlin supposed.

“Happy birthday to Leon,” Arthur said in a sing-song voice.

“You’re incorrigible.” 

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. But that’s why you love me.” 

Merlin froze. “Oh my god. Leon.” He could tell his guess was right by the guilty flash in Arthur’s eyes. He tried to push away, but dammit, Arthur was strong. “I hate you both. I swear there’s no such thing as a secret anymore. I’m going to sodding murder him.” 

“Don’t kill him before he gets that shag. And anyway, I gave him the third degree this afternoon, basically tortured him until he caved. He resisted for much longer than I ever expected.” 

“Why would you do that?”

“I had to know how you felt about me.” 

Merlin realised he was gaping. “Why?”

Arthur’s smile grew softer. Merlin stared at the lips just inches from his, wondering how this could possibly be happening. 

“Because, you stupid idiot. I want _you_.” 

He would have responded, but then Arthur’s lips were on his, demanding, seeking. There were hands running through his hair. After a split-second of confused paralysis, Merlin kissed back with equal vigour, plunging his tongue into Arthur’s mouth and shivering at the exquisite, wet slide of it. They had lost the beat of the music altogether and were groping at each other like sex-starved maniacs in the middle of the dance floor. Merlin wanted to laugh. His lips opened for Arthur’s tongue and their teeth clacked together. He could feel Arthur’s cock—his hard cock—snug against his hip.

Finally, he pulled back, gasping for air. “So doesn’t this mean I won? I won the bet?” 

Arthur nodded, just as breathless. “I’m all yours,” he said. “Now whatever will you do with me?”


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the comments! Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Much love to AsyaAna for the beta and Emmy for the Britpick! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own.

The cab ride to Arthur’s flat was the strangest of Merlin’s life, not least because he spent it with one leg slung over his best mate, their mouths latched together in a public display of affection that would probably have gotten them arrested out on the street. Arthur’s hands moved restlessly over Merlin’s leather-clad thighs and arse, and whenever Merlin pulled back from the kiss Arthur made impatient, frustrated sounds and dragged him close again. It was odd and wonderful and Merlin’s lips were raw from the intensity, but he’d never seen anything as desirable as Arthur’s aroused, flushed face. He wanted to snog the colour off his lips. And kissing was apparently Arthur’s specialty. 

Oh, he was good at it. He held Merlin’s face in his hands like it was something precious and kissed with his whole body—slow, deep kisses that made Merlin’s toes curl in his boots. Arthur’s tongue teased against the seam of his lips and pressed inside, slid wet and delicious against Merlin’s, and then there were open-mouthed kisses with no tongue, soft and long and full of hot breath. 

There hadn’t been much talking after they had decided to leave the club and paid Leon their hasty, sheepish respects, but not before getting a preview of Leon’s incipient gloating. Merlin didn’t fully understand what was going on (aside from the fact they were about to fuck) but had decided to turn off his brain. It was a pesky, inconvenient thing, and he’d much rather be pressing his leg down against Arthur’s glorious erection and making him groan, thank you very much. 

The cab pulled up. Somehow the fare was paid. Merlin wasn’t even drunk except by Arthur’s kisses, but he had no idea how they got into the lift.

Arthur’s flat screamed shag pad. With his insane lawyer salary he lived in an ultra-modern loft with stainless steel fixtures and a Spartan aesthetic that advertised his earnings without being audacious. Everything was white and silver and teak, with only an occasional personal touch indicating it was indeed a home and not a hotel. Merlin had always hated the place. 

But Arthur’s bed, oh, Arthur’s bed was a thing of beauty. When Arthur stopped kissing him long enough to turn on the dim overhead track lighting, Merlin’s eyes were drawn to the opulence of the Super King bed and the promise it held of all the ways they could roll over it and into each other. He shuddered. 

“Cold?” Arthur asked, licking a trail down his neck and up to his ear, where he nuzzled. 

“No. I just—” Arthur’s lips made him lose his train of thought. “Do you by any chance have some sort of weird obsession with my ears? I think I should know before this goes any further.” 

He was only teasing, but Arthur looked sheepish. “They’re cute. Um. I like how soft they are.” 

Not the answer he was expecting. “Okay. Good. I was just worried you were some sort of closet ear fetishist.” 

“And would that be a problem?” The length of Arthur’s body was pressing him against the wall, now, and he closed his eyes as the hands that had been at his waist dropped to grope his arse, kneading the flesh there. His cock, which had returned to full arousal, was trapped against his left thigh, uncomfortable in the tight leather and demanding freedom. 

“Erm. No. I suppose it’s better than some fetishes.” 

They kissed again, and Arthur arched into him, grinding his own pelvis with intent until they were rocking together mindlessly, Merlin’s back thumping into the wall in a way that should have hurt but right now felt incredible. Arthur looked just as wrecked as Merlin felt, his unfocused eyes nearly black. 

A glimmer of worry surfaced through the haze of lust. 

“Is this weird?” Merlin didn’t know how the question had slipped out, but it had. 

Arthur stopped moving. “What? This?” He moved to kiss Merlin again, but Merlin held his hand up. 

“Wait . . . I just . . .”

“Are you having having second thoughts?” Arthur’s eyes widened with the devastation of something beyond thwarted arousal.

Merlin shook his head, trying to make his thoughts coherent in his own mind before articulating them. “Um, it’s just that—you do know that I’m not a girl, right? So . . . this. This is pretty gay, just so we’re clear.” 

Arthur blinked. “I’ve known you for almost ten years, so if you’re a girl you have a lot of explaining to do.” 

“Ha.” He let out a weak laugh, wondering how it was possible that Arthur could smell so delicious. “I just want to be sure that this won’t make things weird between us. After. Because you’re my best friend and I can’t—what if this fucks everything up?”

The bottom dropped out of his stomach when he felt Arthur move away, just enough so that he came away from the wall. A withdrawal. 

“Honestly. I can’t say that it won’t,” Arthur said. “But I can’t say that it will, either. I . . . I’m not just thinking of this as a one-time thing. Not with you.” A pause. “Is that what you want?”

“No. No, it isn’t.” He drew Arthur close again, and this time when their mouths connected, it was sweeter, softer. Merlin’s whole body ached with want. 

Arthur pressed a light kiss to his top lip and drew away. “And you know, talking is good and all and we should definitely do that, but right now I’m so bloody horny I can’t think straight. So maybe we can leave the talking until later?” 

That made so much sense, because honestly Merlin wasn’t sure there was any blood left in his head. Instead, he nodded and chased Arthur’s mouth again. But when he felt a hand scrabbling at the fly of his trousers and palming his cock, he broke the kiss again. “Not so fast.” 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“I believe I have a prize to collect.” 

“ _Mer_ lin.” 

Merlin smiled. This was going to be fun. “You have to do whatever I say.” 

Picking up on his playful tone, Arthur grinned back. “Oh really?”

“Mmm-hmm.” 

“So, what exactly do you want me to do?”

God, if he had time he could produce a list of jobs that would make a whore blush, but right now he figured simple was best. All of those fantasies about Arthur when he was getting off with strangers came flooding back. He ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, and then pushed gently on his shoulders. “Kneel down.” 

Arthur went to the floor willingly enough, but once he was down there he looked up at Merlin with a sly grin. 

“Okay. Here I am. What next?”

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Merlin rolled his eyes. “What do you think?” 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I’m new to all of this bloke-on-bloke stuff after all. Well, relatively new.” He did his best to appear innocent. “You’re going to have to be a bit more specific with the instructions.” 

“Ugh, you arse.” The rush of blood to his face made him hot and itchy. But then Arthur licked his lips, and yes, the desire to put his cock between them was much stronger than his embarrassment. And as he’d won the bet, he was the one in control. Steeling himself, he looked Arthur directly in the eye. “Take my cock out.”

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought Arthur may have moaned. Hands immediately began working at his fly, drawing it down and slipping underneath to tug at the sweat-sticky leather. For a moment Merlin fretted Arthur might be turned off, so he bit his lip, holding his breath as Arthur worked the leather partway down his thighs. Arthur allayed his fears when he pressed his mouth to the bulge of Merlin’s erection, stiff under his black cotton pants. For a moment he nosed there, eyes closed, and Merlin stared like a drowning man might consider a life raft. He ran his hands through Arthur’s soft hair. 

When Arthur finally released his dick, it sprung up, hard and already leaking at the head. Now it was Arthur’s turn to stare. He seemed just a little bit surprised, like he hadn’t known what to expect. As always, though, he quickly schooled his features, looking up at Merlin again. 

“Now what?”

“Oh my god, Arthur, I hate you so much.” Now his face was surely flaming.

“You need to tell me what to do, Merlin.” Despite his calm demeanour, Arthur’s voice was hoarse—with arousal, Merlin hoped. 

“Suck it.”

“Suck what exactly?” All innocence. 

Merlin glared down at him and took his prick at the base, the other hand still in Arthur’s hair. “My cock. Open your mouth.” 

Arthur did, and Merlin guided the head between Arthur’s pretty lips and felt the first tentative swirl of tongue. The next moments were a belly-tightening mix of awkward and hot. After a few faltering starts, Arthur gained a rhythm. Merlin watched Arthur’s expression change from uncertain to focused when he began to suck in earnest, letting Merlin control the movements until the dynamic shifted and Merlin found himself pressed against the wall again, Arthur’s hands on his hips to still his pelvis as he devoured Merlin’s cock. 

Fuck but it was maddening that Arthur should be good at this, too. Once in a while he gagged when he took too much in, and it was sloppier than many blow jobs he’d received, but it was Arthur and his mouth was warm and gorgeous and _Arthur._ His stupid, infuriating, wonderful friend, the man he’d always wanted but never dared to hope for, was looking at Merlin like _he_ was wonderful, as if there was no place he’d rather be than kneeling between Merlin’s thighs in his ridiculously posh bedroom. Merlin trembled as he watched his cock disappear and reappear, the pressure and wetness better than any of his most torrid fantasies. He couldn’t widen his legs because of the trousers, could only try not to come before they got to fucking. He gripped the back of Arthur’s head in warning. Ending it was torture, but somehow he managed to convey urgency with a grunt and shoving hands. 

Arthur wiped the back of his mouth and looked up at him, breathing heavily. “Yes?” he managed.

“Bed. Trousers off. Now.” 

They stumbled the short distance and fell in a heaped pile of limbs, Merlin scrabbling with the stupid, too-tight leather trousers and boots while Arthur pulled off his own clothes. And then, finally, there was nothing but skin-on-skin. 

He’d seen Arthur naked before at the gym and occasionally when he’d come over to his flat unannounced too early in the morning, though he’d never allowed himself to stare. But now Arthur lay naked, looking at him with a bemused expression with his hands tucked behind his head. Resting against his flat belly, his cock was hard and thick, the veins in prominent relief. It was gorgeous, golden and pink and swollen at the tip. Merlin tore his eyes away to take in the heavy balls resting between Arthur’s lightly-haired thighs, trailing down to his firm calf muscles and long-toed feet. 

“Do I meet with your approval?” Arthur asked. He was smiling, not smirking now, his eyes soft and fond. Merlin fought the emotion welling in his throat. 

“You’ll do.” 

For the first time they kissed like real lovers, naked and pressed together from head to foot. Merlin grinned at the thrill of Arthur’s warm body beneath him, and he ran his hands down arms to the taut waist, over the broad chest and then back to cup Arthur’s jaw and kiss him properly. Arthur’s arms held him close. It was odd, yet strangely not, to be like this with Arthur. They made use of the bed’s breadth, rolling together, arms and legs entwining, and then Arthur was on top of him, dominating him with possessive, tongue-filled kisses.

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” Arthur whispered, their faces close together.

“Shut up.” 

“You are.” And then he was kissed and stroked till the brink of madness. 

“It was I who won,” he said, rolling on top of Arthur again. “So you’re supposed to be doing whatever _I_ ask.” 

“I think that’s been established, Merlin.” It seemed Arthur was genuinely waiting for instruction now, and Merlin realised that of the pair of them, he was the one with experience. He could show Arthur how good sex between men could be. He bit his lip, considering the face of his friend. It was so tempting to top, but what he really wanted would probably be better for Arthur, too. This time. 

He leaned down, and whispered with a kiss, “I want you inside me.” 

Arthur nodded, his mouth dropping open to take his tongue, and then Merlin guided their twined fingers towards his arse. The necessary items were procured from the bedside table and Merlin felt the cool, wet lube in his crack, the teasing circle of a finger pushing beyond the tight ring of muscle. Arthur’s groan reverberated through his chest, and then there was a blunter pressure against his entrance. He closed his eyes as the thick head of Arthur’s cock breached him. 

With such little prep, the pain was sharp and deep, but Merlin rocked into it, stifling his hiss of discomfort until it became a sigh of pleasure. 

Beneath him, Arthur’s eyes had gone nearly feral. “Fuck. You feel—”

For a moment they sat locked together, and Merlin could feel Arthur’s twitching cock, how hard it was. He squeezed around it and Arthur made an unconscious sound of desire. 

Promptly he found himself on his back, Arthur rearing above him. Arthur’s cock, which had slipped out during the shift in position, pushed back deeply into his arse, and he watched Arthur’s face contort as he begun to fuck with long, full strokes. Everything was on fire, the light in the room seemed to illuminate Arthur from behind and Merlin almost cried from the satisfaction of it, how Arthur seemed to press into the very heart of him. 

Love. He couldn’t think of love at this moment but he knew this was it, Arthur staring down at him, wide-eyed, pressing a soft kiss to his ankle. Arthur’s hands ran over his legs and then Merlin was folded in half, accepting Arthur’s kisses with tongue and clashing teeth. He clung on and pushed into the sweat and heat and dirtiness of it, connected so acutely to the man above him, until he felt his orgasm swell again from the inside out.

He didn’t know who came first, only that Arthur was rocking into his body with his head thrown back and Merlin was pulsing in his own fist, his cock spurting fiery slickness between them. He didn’t know anything but that Arthur said his name, and his name sounded beautiful.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to AsyaAna for the beta and to Emmy for the Britpick! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own.

Merlin woke incrementally. The first thing he noticed was that it was warm—almost too warm, and then he rolled to his side and felt the pleasant aches of a night well spent. Cracking open his eyes, he squinted against the morning light. Whoever owned this flat needed to think about getting some bloody curtains for the win— _Arthur._

Snapping to attention, Merlin sat up in bed and realised he was naked under the sheets swathed round his waist. He was alone, and there was something sharp digging into his thigh. A condom wrapper. 

Fuck. Bloody buggering hell. 

The urge to flee was instantaneous and fierce, but then Merlin heard the water in Arthur’s adjoining bathroom turn off. He froze at the sound of the sliding shower door, his heart thundering like a nervous rabbit’s. At least he could maintain some dignity by locating his trousers—oh, but they were all the way across the room—and also leather. He groaned, imagining the imminent walk of shame. Seconds passed that seemed like an eternity, and then Arthur padded into the room with a towel slung around his waist, tousling his hair dry with a smaller one and looking damp and clean. He smiled. 

“Hey.” 

Merlin swallowed, heart still pounding. God he hadn’t felt like this since he was fifteen and had a crush on his next-door neighbour, Will. “Hey. Um. What time is it?” 

“It’s past ten, you lazy sod. I was going to wake you up but you looked so peaceful.” As he spoke, he came closer until Merlin was face-to-bulge. Aware for the first time of his own morning erection, Merlin forced his eyes away.

Arthur’s expression had clouded, his smile a little less bright. “Are you all right? Having some morning-after regrets?” 

The question snapped Merlin out of his mood. He shook his head. “Only if you are.” 

“Well then you’ve no reason to. Because I certainly don’t.” 

Relief washed over Merlin, and the nervous beating of his heart slowed. Maybe it would be all right after all. 

Or more than all right. The towel dropped from Arthur’s waist, unveiling his half-hard cock. Merlin could only appreciate the view for a moment because then Arthur was climbing back onto the bed and pushing him down into the mess of blankets. His smelled like soap and cologne, and visions of rimming danced in Merlin’s head.

“I have morning breath!” Merlin protested, straining his head to the side when Arthur moved to kiss him. 

“Don’t care.” 

But Arthur respectfully avoided pushing his tongue into Merlin’s mouth, instead concentrating on his neck. He sucked hard enough to leave a bruise, and it was heavenly until Merlin realised he had a job to go to on Monday. 

“Arthur—the library,” he laughed, pushing Arthur’s head away. “Stop it or I’ll look like some sort of sexual deviant on my first day.”

That got Arthur’s attention. “You’re going to take it?” He grinned down.

“I think so. I should probably call them back.” With an affectionate stroke, Merlin brushed back the wet hair that fell into Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur nodded. “Later.” 

“Okay. But what about you? Don’t you have to go in today?”

With a gentle heave, Arthur rolled off of him and propped his head on his bent arm. “I was thinking about taking a day off.” He trailed his other hand over Merlin’s chest. 

“I can’t believe it. _Arthur Pendragon Takes a Holiday_?” 

“Believe it. I think I have something, or someone, more important to do today.” 

“You are the cheesiest person alive.” 

“But you _love_ me.” Arthur grinned, and Merlin buried his face under the pillow with a groan of embarrassment. Bloody Leon. Of course Arthur wouldn’t let him hide. He yanked the pillow away and tossed it to the floor, and then he bent close, his breath hot against Merlin’s cheek. “You do, Merlin. Don’t you?” 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

“That’s a shame. Because I love you.” 

Merlin’s stomach twisted. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” 

Lines drew across Arthur’s forehead, and his mouth turned down in a little frown. “I do mean it.” Then he pushed Merlin onto his back and straddled him, clasping Merlin’s wrists and pressing them over his head. Merlin’s heart had begun thumping again, loud enough to be audible. He was forced to look up at Arthur’s stupidly perfect face, yet he didn’t see trace of irony or fear there. “I do mean it, Merlin,” Arthur said again. And then they were kissing, and Arthur was touching him all over like he hadn’t just fucked Merlin through the mattress the previous night. “Wanted to do this for so long.” A warm, firm hand gripped his cock and began pumping it. “Wanted to see you come.” 

“Ar-arthur.” 

“Knew you’d be so beautiful—”

“God, don’t stop—” The hand twisted over his cock, moving faster now. Merlin squirmed, helpless. One of Arthur’s hands still pinned his wrists above. 

“Wanted to fuck you—”

“Yes, _fuck_ —”

“—drive me out of my mind.” 

“Faster. Please.” Arthur jerked him faster, and now he was grinding against Merlin’s leg, his erection leaving wet trails of precome. 

“Never going to let you out of my bed. Never—”

“Shit. Arthur.” Merlin came with a cry, desperate and aroused from Arthur’s words. It felt like he would never stop, and still Arthur held him, milking him through it until he was too sensitive and his hips hitched in pleasure bordering on pain. 

“Fuck.” And Arthur’s hand was slipping over his own cock now, and he kneeled and aimed and shot all over Merlin’s stomach, his eyes greedily drinking in the sight. Merlin stared and wondered what he’d done to get so lucky, and cupped Arthur’s firm arse for good measure. Just because he could.

Instead of grabbing a towel to clean them off, Arthur was on him again, the semen slick between them. Now they’d both need another shower. Preferably together. 

“Um,” Merlin said, “you know, you’re not bad at this whole gay sex thing.” 

“I think I am a little.”

“A little bad?”

“A little gay.” 

“Oh.” 

Arthur rubbed his nose against Merlin’s, eyes sated and once again, so fond. The happiness that warmed Merlin’s body at that look was probably unhealthy. But he couldn’t help pressing the issue. “So have you always been? You know, a little gay?”

“I guess.” Arthur sighed. “We’re talking about this now, aren’t we?”

“Yes?”

Arthur rolled to the side and wiped his abdomen with the sheets. Then he stared at the ceiling and started talking. 

He told Merlin of how he’d never kissed another bloke until that night at uni when they’d had the drunken fumble, but how afterwards it was all he could think about. He was scared, though, and more than a bit freaked out about ruining their friendship, which Merlin supposed he could understand. And then Lance had fought with Gwen and come to his flat one night after a game and one thing had led to another, but afterwards they’d hardly spoken to each other again. He didn’t want the same thing to happen with Merlin, especially since Merlin was so innocent and sweet. 

“I am absolutely not either of those things,” Merlin complained, interrupting him. 

“You were to me.” 

“But you know now that’s utter bollocks, right?”

Arthur gave him a wry smile. “Yes, I’ve learned the error of my ways. You are a horrible, evil person with a debauched soul.”

“Exactly.” 

“So,” Arthur continued. “After uni I just sort of fell back into dating women only, but I don’t know . . . there was always something missing.” 

“A cock?”

“Shut up. Yes, probably, but more than that . . . When I think back on the last ten years about when I was happiest, it was always with you.” 

Merlin’s throat felt hot and tight. He swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

“I don’t think I really knew until this bet. This stupid bet.” He rolled his eyes. “I could have ripped the bollocks off that dodgy barman last night.” 

Despite the illicit joy those words inspired, Merlin felt compelled to stand up for his choices. “Gwaine’s not dodgy.” 

“He is dodgy, Merlin. How do you expect to survive in this world if you can’t even discern a dodgy bloke from a non-dodgy one? Thank god you’ve me here to save you from yourself.” 

“Yes and in the future I’ll make sure to run all of my hook-ups by you first.”

Okay, now he was getting a death-glare. “Not if you want them to survive.” 

“Oh, I see.” Merlin bit back the smile that threatened to give his pleasure away. “So we’re talking exclusivity here. Hmm.” He tapped a finger against his lips, and then made a show of pressing his hand against Arthur’s head. “Are you sure you feel all right? Or are you an imposter?”

Arthur stuck out his tongue. 

“Seriously, who are you and what did you do with my mate Arthur Pendragon? You know, the one with a different woman every night of the week?”

“People change, Merlin. I’m not good at sharing when I want something. Never was.” 

Merlin feigned indecision. “Hmm. And then there’s the fact you yourself said I had a bad habit of jumping into relationship after relationship. Isn’t that what the bet was about in the first place?” 

“Yeah. Well . . .” An expectant look. “I was hoping maybe this would be different. For both of us.” 

“Different how?” 

“Because it’s real.” 

For a moment they just stared at each other, and then Merlin leaned down and kissed Arthur gently on the mouth. 

“Okay.”

“Just okay?” 

“How about bloody fucking brilliant?” 

“That’s more like it.” 

Arthur rolled back onto Merlin and kissed him, an action that was beginning to seem like a habit. It wasn’t a bad one as far as Merlin was concerned, but he had plans involving a warm shower and the slow opening of Arthur’s arse on his tongue. 

“Okay, now it’s your turn.” Arthur said, breathless. His lips were swollen and perfectly biteable.

“For what?”

“To tell me how much you love me, and for how long, and when you first realised I was the most amazing person in the world and you couldn’t live without me. Don’t leave out the wank fantasies. Oh, and any particularly interesting dreams.” 

“You utter prat.” 

Arthur nipped his ear. “Start talking, Emrys.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to AsyaAna for the beta and Emmy for the Britpick! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own! 
> 
> A/N: This is the last bit, folks. I hope you enjoyed! Thanks so much for reading.

“So you know how they always say you’ve basically fucked all of the people that your partner has fucked?” Leon asked, directing the question to the whole table, which included Merlin, Arthur, and Morgana. It was late on a Tuesday, and the pub was loud and filled with after-work regulars. 

“Yeah, so?” Morgana shrugged. 

“Well I guess that means we’ve finally shagged, mate.” Leon wriggled his eyebrows at Merlin. 

“Now that’s an alarming thought.” Merlin made a face, though he was pleased it seemed to be working out for his friend and Percy. 

“And now that you’ve shagged my brother you’ve buggered half of the women in London,” Morgana added helpfully. 

Merlin sighed. “Wonderful. I’m practically straight.” 

“And Arthur’s fucked both Percy _and_ Gwaine by proxy.” Leon’s eyes were gleeful as he turned his gaze towards the bar where Gwaine stood chatting to a few newcomers.

Morgana snorted and rolled her eyes. “Praise whoever invented condoms. Can we please change the topic before I lose my dinner?” She pushed the plate of cold chips towards the centre of the table.

“Where is the boy wonder, anyway?” Arthur asked Leon. His arm was slung across the back of Merlin’s chair. It was something he’d done on occasion before, but Merlin had never let himself think too much about it. Now, however, he leaned into the proximity, his thigh brushing lightly against Arthur’s.

Leon grinned. “Oh, he’s got class tonight until seven, poor dear. And then he’s got tutorial group.” 

Morgana laughed and shook her head. “Aww, and you have his timetable memorised. Must be love. How is it robbing the cradle, Leon?” 

“Bloody fabulous. And his cock is so—”

“Huge, we know, we know.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “If I have to hear one more comment about Percival and his Wondercock I’m literally going to murder you.” 

“You’re just jealous,” Leon said, cracking his knuckles, “because Merlin shagged him rotten.”

“Ha! And anyway by your logic I have, too, so no reason to be jealous.” 

The rest of the table laughed because they all knew that he was bollocks. 

“Don’t get a complex, Arthur. Your cock is big, too,” Merlin said, leaning close so that only Arthur could hear. “I mean, Percy still has a couple inches on you but you’re a close runner up. Well, maybe not a _close_ runner up, but a runner up all the same.” 

“You’re being insolent,” Arthur said, squeezing his thigh just above the knee, one of his most ticklish places. Merlin yelped and tried to bat him away. 

“I thought you liked my insolence.” 

“Hmm. I’m reconsidering my perspective.” 

“Just trying to keep you on your toes.”

They snuck a quick kiss, and Merlin laced his fingers through Arthur’s to surreptitiously hold hands under the table. Not that they were really fooling anyone. 

“You two are so cute it’s practically nauseating,” Leon complained. “Why did I ever help you get together?” 

“Just wait ‘til Percy arrives,” Arthur shot back. “And then it’s: _oh, Percy how was uni? Are you tired? Do you need a massage? Can I worship your giant cock_?”

Leon raised his hands in surrender. “You said it, not me. You all heard that he was the one, right?” 

“In my opinion,” Morgana said, “you’re all equally sickening.” 

None of them could disagree, and so they raised their pints in a toast and drained them. When Merlin got up for another round, he could feel Arthur’s eyes follow him. Not jealous indeed. Gwaine greeted him with his usual enthusiasm, a flashy smile, hair toss, and a wink. 

“All right, blue eyes? Haven’t seen you around much lately.” 

The reason being he’d started his new job and in his time off he could generally be found in bed with Arthur, but he wasn’t about to share that information with Gwaine. “I’m well. You?” 

“Ah, I’m getting by.” He grabbed a fresh glass and started pulling a pint. “See you and your mate have finally got sorted.” 

Merlin nodded. “Shockingly enough, I guess we have.” Sure, things were new and the transition from friends to lovers was not without difficulties. Arthur remained an obnoxious and arrogant prat, and Merlin was still a little unsure about where things were headed, but most days seemed as close to perfect as he could imagine. 

“Need any help carrying those?” Arthur’s voice came from behind. He and Gwaine nodded at each other, and Merlin fished out his wallet to pay.

“On the house,” Gwaine said. “Cheers, lads.” 

“Cheers.” 

When they made it back to the table, Leon and Morgana were laughing and whispering together.

“What’s so funny?” Merlin asked. 

“Oh, nothing. We’re just making a little bet between us here.”

“Regarding?” Arthur took his seat and sipped deeply from his fresh pint. 

“How long you two will last,” Morgana said. “I give it six months before you get fed up with my brother and cast him out on his arse, Merlin, and rightly so.” 

“Oi, thanks for the vote of confidence, Morgana! My own flesh and blood.” 

“What about you?” Merlin asked Leon.

His friend grinned over the rim of his glass. “I’m a bit more optimistic. I say eight months.” 

Arthur huffed. “Oh really? And this coming from a man who’s dating a zygote?” 

Morgana and Leon both burst out laughing. Merlin turned to Arthur. “I think it’s up to us to prove these twats wrong.” 

“I don’t think they realise how seriously we take these sorts of things,” Arthur concurred.

“Exactly. We’ll make it at _least_ a year,” Merlin joked. 

Arthur leaned close and brushed his lips against Merlin’s cheek. “Oh,” he said softly, “I’m betting on much longer than that.”

The End


End file.
